When Death Knocks A Little Closer

In the last few months, India experienced the worst wave of covid. Almost every other person got infected; and almost everyone knew someone who didn’t make it out.

I was part of the luckier few. Although many of my close family and friends got covid, all of them managed to come out of it. So even though I was aware of the really high number of fatalities happening all around, in a way, they remained largely in the form of high statistics.

Until this morning, when I received a message on a whatsapp group, informing that an ex colleague of mine passed away from covid.

Initially, I was in disbelief. This was a large whatsapp community; surely the message was not about the person I had worked with. It must be someone else. But a few frantic messages and calls later, I realized that it was, in fact, him.

Not just a distant statistic. But someone I knew. Someone who in the brief period that our lives had crossed paths, had left his mark through happy, calm memories. Someone who I hadn’t been in touch with lately, but always smiled when I saw a Facebook post from. Someone who was one of the genuinely nicest people I had ever come across.

And suddenly, as of this morning, he is no more.

We’re in the second half of June, and this second covid wave is well into its receding phase. States are starting to come back to normal life. The worst of the pandemic (at least for now) was supposed to be over. Everyone who had made it, was supposed to have made it.

But hearing about his death is a jarring reminder that we’re not out of it. That at no point can we take what we have for granted. This virus doesn’t care who you are, or how nice a person you were. It doesn’t care how many people’s lives are affected by your loss. Every friend and family member who survived this virus might just as easily not have. Like he didn’t.

A part of me knows this isn't about me. The loss I'm feeling is probably not even a fraction of what his family must be going through. But maybe there's something about death that makes you recall details that life lets fade away.

I can still picture him, smiling that kind smile of his that made you feel like everything was okay. Those tired eyes, humbling me and reminding me not to take life for granted, and to cherish every moment while we can.

Because we never know when it will be gone. 

**********

I hope wherever you are, you’re free from all pain.

The F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Conundrum

I love Friends. And no, I don’t mean the generic noun for a group of close people, but the show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Anyone who knows me, knows that. I commonly refer to scenes from the show to explain or understand something. I love those six characters - often more than people in my real life. One of my favourite possessions for several years was a poster from the show. And I’ve watched and re-watched all the episodes about a dozen times (and also made my mom watch them alongside me).

But in the last few years, I’ve found other emotions cropping up when I talk about the show: emotions that are not just enjoyment or love. There are scenes - many of them - at which I earlier used to laugh unabashedly, but now find myself cringing uncomfortably. And now, when I explain my love for the show to someone who has never seen it, it’s with an apologetic rider: look, some aspects of the show aren’t very....well, nice.

After all, there’s a definite current of homophobia that is often used as the primary source of entertainment, which we can see in the interactions between the guys. And also a decent amount of fat-shaming, through Monica’s character and her earlier overweight self. As someone who considers herself to be a strong ally of people with any sexual orientation, and someone who crusades against societal standards of beauty being used to stump people's confidence, these aren’t easy things to overlook.

And so, I find myself facing two very different kinds of emotions emanating from the same source. A part of me really still loves the show (as I was telling a friend recently, two decades worth of love isn’t going to suddenly disappear). But on the other hand, the current me finds myself disapproving of many of the scenes and ideas shown in the episodes.

And my conundrum is that I don’t quite know how to reconcile this. Can you really claim to love something if part of it makes you cringe deeply and feel apologetic?

In a world where everything is so polarized, it seems like the answer should be no. I have to choose: I have to either be on the side of the show, or against it. There isn’t a middle ground, because a middle ground would mean compromising on my values. If I love the show, then I should love it wholeheartedly, accepting every single bit of it. If I consider myself someone who believes in equality and dignity of all people, then I should shun any show that tries to ridicule this belief, including this one.

A part of me gets it. Given how chaotic our world seems to be, it seems almost easier to clutch at something and stick with it. To have at least one thing in our life that is clear and dependable. Maybe that’s why we’re getting split into more and more camps each day: to find some kind of certainty and not give in to opposing ideas.

But the remaining part of me just can’t reconcile. Because choosing any one side means denying the other, which means denying a part of myself. If I say I love this show no matter what, then I’m denying my own growth over the years as I’ve become a person who is a lot more open and understanding of differences in this world. If I say I hate this show because it goes against some of my beliefs, I’m denying the fact that the show was (and to an extent, still is) a huge part of my life and is intertwined with so many of my best memories. Both of these aspects are part of me, so it doesn’t feel right to deny either one.

So where does that leave me? In the murky, gray area in between. It’s the one without clean boundaries, right in the centre of chaos. It’s where I reject the notion that we have all been raised with, that 'there is only good or bad, right or wrong, and we have to choose between them'. Reality does not exist in binaries; rather, it exists in the hazy complexities in between these binaries. And that’s exactly where I am.

I’ve spent far too long feeling stuck in the middle, struggling to choose between the two extremes. So now, I’m giving a shot to a different approach: one where I don’t choose. Of course I loved this show. It has given me countless moments of laughter and joy, and it is still something I occasionally turn to when looking for a light moment. And of course there are parts of it that are problematic, parts where I won’t laugh, parts that I’ll call out as discriminatory.

The two contradictions exist, and maybe the point is, to let them, and accept them both.

Choosing a Life: Mine or Yours?

India is currently facing the worst possible brunt of covid. Cases are rising everywhere. So is the death count. 

However, unlike the last wave, this time around, people are not just dying from covid. They’re dying from a lack of treatment, due to a lack of resources.

There aren’t enough beds.

There isn’t enough oxygen.

There isn’t enough medicine.

There isn’t enough plasma.

There isn’t even enough space to bury or cremate the dead.

So what do you do when you’re in a situation where demand is high and supply is limited? How do you decide who gets access to the resources? 

Maybe we opt for ‘first come first serve’, though that would never happen in this country. When have we ever waited in a line?

Maybe doctors take a call on who absolutely needs what, but most people aren’t even able to reach the doctors. 

No, more often than not, it’s the old Indian solution: jugaad, vaasta, connections, network. If you know the right people, you can get access to what you need. (As much as I want to judge this system, I can’t. If it’s your loved one who is in critical condition and in need of a bed or oxygen, you’re going to do everything you can to get that resource for him or her. And if you have better connections, then the better for you. This country was built on vaasta, and it’s not going to shed away its core identity now, not in the middle of a crisis. Though, even this system is failing these days).

But regardless of the way people are getting access to the resources, the grim truth that remains is this: there aren’t enough resources for everyone.

This means that for every person who gets a resource, another person does not. 

How do you come to terms with that?

I read a news report recently that an old man, in his 70s or 80s, gave up his bed and oxygen in a hospital for a younger patient, and chose to go home. And there, he passed away. 

Something about that story really hit me. Of course, there was a sense of admiration for the man who took such a daring and selfless step. But more than that, there was a sinking feeling in my stomach: a reminder, that in the current situation, for every bed a patient gets, somebody else loses out. 

Which means that for every life that is prioritized for saving, another life is lost.

And I don’t know how to come to terms with that.

Of course, you can say that ultimately, this is life. Everywhere we look, even in a non-covid world, resources are limited. Only some get access to them. More often than not, it’s the ones with some kind of economic or social or political privilege. Others lose out. That’s life. That’s survival. 

But I guess that there’s something about the current covid crisis that has brought us face to face with this reality in a jarring way. Multiple lives are on the line. And unfortunately, only some can be saved. How do you decide which life is more valuable? 

At a personal level, I know I’ll probably opt for saving my family over an unknown one, because that’s the most natural instinct, and I can’t fault that. We all want to save our loved ones. But there’s something really unnerving about the realization that saving my loved ones means, in many cases, damning your loved ones. Saving my family means not saving yours. 

How do I choose a life to save, when the choice is between me and you? 

When Statistics Meet Reality

Since we seem to have divided up our world into binaries and labels, let me start by identifying myself with one: I’m pro-vaccines. 

I’m a child of two doctors, who grew up with medical conversations being a regular feature of the dinner table. I’ve gone through my complete share of vaccines as a child (and bawled my way through each of them, because, you know, injections). I’ve grown up hearing my parents and other elders talk about the advancement of medical science, and the kinds of diseases they grew up around which have almost been eradicated now, thanks to vaccinations. My parents would often look at the news in recent times and shake their heads and wonder: how can you possibly be ‘anti’ vaccines, given how many lives they have saved?

So when vaccines came out for covid, to me it was a no-brainer that people should get vaccinated. I know in India there was some concern about a particular vaccine given the speed with which it was pushed out, but a conversation with my dad assuaged that concern. He admitted that the effectiveness of these vaccines was hard to be completely sure of at this stage; but at the same time, there was no major health risk from getting one.

As a result, I became a fairly vocal advocate of the vaccine (vocal when asked for my opinion, that is). A friend once messaged me, asking me to check with my parents if they felt it was safe to get the vaccines. I relayed their response (which was a resounding ‘yes’). Before signing off, my friend jokingly messaged saying, “In case I die because of this vaccine, I’m going to come back and haunt you and your entire family!”

I laughed it off. 

But somewhere, deep down, a tiny part of me squirmed. It was safe, right?

Well, every vaccine carried a risk, but the point was, that risk was very, very low.

And for the most part, the data confirmed it. The world over, vaccination drives had begun with enthusiasm. Most people seemed to develop mild to no symptoms. I could see the same at home. Dad developed no symptoms; mom got some fever and body ache for a few days after her first shot. All the senior citizens in my extended family had a similar experience.

But occasionally, in the news, a report would pop up: about people (in other countries) developing adverse or critical effects post vaccination. A few people were developing blood clots, which were becoming fatal. Research was undertaken; some restrictions even placed on the vaccines in western countries. But again and again, the data said the same thing: the chances of developing serious adverse health effects were very, very low. I remember reading somewhere that 5 in a million people were getting blood clots. That’s a very small amount.

Even in India, a few news reports began showing up about people suddenly becoming critically ill or passing away after getting the vaccine. But the default response was that that was a coincidence, and not a reaction caused by the vaccine. I don’t think India still has a comprehensive analysis of the health effects of the vaccines. Still, the statistics that do exist remain comforting: the risk was very, very low.

And so there I was, living in this statistically comforting zone, rolling my eyes at the anti-vaxxers, nodding along with news articles telling people to step forward and take vaccines and stop listening to people saying negative things about them, when one day, I got a message.

The father of someone I knew had passed away. Suddenly. One day after receiving the vaccine. And before you ask, yes, he had comorbidities. But no, he wasn’t sick. He was fine. But a day after receiving the vaccine, he fell seriously ill, was rushed to the hospital, and died within a few hours.

When I heard this, something within me shook very deeply. I didn’t know the father, but I knew his son, and so, suddenly, this felt very real. He might still have been one of the 5 in a million that this happened to, but suddenly, that didn’t matter. The statistics and data all lost their meaning. I didn’t care if the risk was 0.1% or 0.001% or 0.00001%. It wouldn’t have mattered if he were the only person from the entire global population whom this happened to. 

Because this person was real. He was not a distant news report. He was not a number. He was someone’s entire world. And he deserved better than me scoffing at anyone questioning the adverse effect of vaccines, and he deserved better than a government that even refuses to consider any adverse deaths as having some connection with the vaccine. 

In that moment, I realized that all the data and statistics of the world become meaningless when it's you or your loved one who is facing the brunt of those tiny figures. Even last year, when India witnessed its first wave of covid, a lot of people would comfort themselves in the knowledge that the death rate was low. But tell that to the person who lost their family to covid. What do they care if the death rate was low or high? That data point isn’t going to bring back their loved ones.

The purpose of writing this isn’t to advocate for anti-vaxxers. No, I’m still very much in favour of people (including myself and my family) getting the vaccine. Because at the end of the day, they have saved millions in the past, and might just do the same going forward.

The difference though, is that now I try to advocate for vaccines with a little bit more humility. The arrogance has faded. I’m more conscious of the risks, and I think the government should work harder at identifying those risks and educating people about the same, instead of trying to brush them under the carpet. And I hope that despite the risks, people will be willing to take that leap and go and get vaccinated, because that might be the only solution we have to fight this disease in the long run. 

But I think the one thing I won’t be able to do going forward is to see a statistic as just a statistic. Maths is clean. Life is not. A number is not just a number. It’s a life. And it might do us some good to remember that.

The Beacon

What do you do
When you look around
And see the world crumbling
Nearby
Far
Everywhere
Every home
Knowing
That it's probably a matter of time
Before that impact draws closer
And closer
Right up to where you're standing
And perhaps even more

You’ve been given a task
To carry a beacon of hope
One you're desperately trying to hold on to
But it flickers quite often
There are days
When it takes all your strength
To just light it up once
But you know you have to light it
Because too many around you are flickering
Too many have given out
After all
Hope is in limited supply these days

You do anything you can
Whatever people suggest
Eat this, drink that
Take deep breaths
Try to work out
Start a gratitude journal
Post happy pictures of colourful flowers
Whatever you can
To keep your circle untouched
To keep that beacon burning

But every effort
Feels like a trick
An attempt to evade
What definitely seems to be coming
And deep down
That gratitude is mixing with guilt
The hope is mixing with grief
And the effort to smile
Is weighing you down
Starting to feel like too much

So maybe for a bit
Just a short bit
Let me put that beacon down
And allow the darkness to engulf
To feel all the emotions
That I've been holding back
That I’ve not been allowing myself to feel
Just lay here
And let the tears flow
Without any attempt to stop them

And in some time
Whenever that is
When the waves of emotions subside
To take those deep breaths
Pull myself back up
Pick up the beacon
And continue to keep it lit
With every bit of me that I can

Because the thing is
The world around is crumbling
But as of this moment
(And who knows how long that moment will last)
I'm not

And I have to keep reminding myself of that

Movie Analysis: "Sir"

Note: Contains Spoilers

I recently watched the movie, “Sir” (available on Netflix). It’s a story of two protagonists: a man (Ashwin, aka ‘Sir’) belonging to a wealthy family in Mumbai, and a woman (Ratna) who works as the full-time maid at his house. Over the course of the movie, we see Ashwin begin to fall for Ratna, and the struggles that stem from the class differences between them.

I’ll be honest: I loved this film. It felt relatable, showing the lives of maids that many Indians living in the urban setup have grown up seeing. I also loved the characters, who felt real yet inspiring in their personalities, each in their own way. Ratna, as the young widow aspiring to become a fashion designer and break away from the poverty and class barriers surrounding her and her family. And Ashwin, a young man dealing with his own personal problems, but at all times, treating Ratna with politeness and respect, without caring about class expectations.

The movie holds up a mirror to the way urban India generally treats its domestic help, without being overly dramatic. When Ratna interrupts a conversation between Ashwin and his sister to ask whether she should lay out dinner, her sister rudely lashes out at her for the interruption. When Ratna accidentally drops wine on a guest’s dress, she is yelled at and humiliated in front of everyone by the guest. Common words like “moron” and people like “them” are thrown, a generalization that we’ve seen all too often used when talking about domestic help in our country. There’s also a shot of the camera following Ranta from behind as she moves through a party serving food to guests. The viewers get to see from her angle how more often than not, she’s ignored, as though she’s non-existent in that room, a faceless, nameless person existing only to serve the upper class.

In the backdrop of this reality, Ashwin’s behaviour towards Ratna is refreshing. It’s not as though he goes out of his way (at least not initially) to cross the class barriers. He doesn’t ask her to sit on the table and chair with him, or give her a bigger room in exchange for the small servant’s quarter she resides in. As much as I hate to say this, that would be unrealistic in a world where servants are treated as nobodies (however, at some point Ashwin does ask Ratna if it doesn’t bother her to have to sit on the floor in the kitchen and eat after feeding everyone).

Instead, the film takes baby steps, and shows simple ways of treating people with humanity regardless of the class they come from. It’s something as simple as saying “please” and “thank you” - words our country reserves only for people of the same or higher class. It’s as simple as smiling and looking at the person when talking to them. It’s something as simple as using a calm and polite tone of voice. It’s as simple as saying “sorry” when you have said something to hurt their feelings, regardless of their social status. It’s as simple as refusing to stoop to the level of humiliating your maid at your party, even at the risk of offending a guest.

I’m using the word ‘simple’, but in reality, they hardly seem simple for most people. I’m starting with highlighting these points, because this is the most basic level of humanity that the film asks us to reflect upon. I’m sure a large section of the audience will look at the love story between the two characters (which I will get to below), and write it off as bizarre and unrealistic. So before we get to the parts that seem too big to fathom, maybe let’s at least start with the smaller, simpler steps. Sure, don’t fall in love with your maids. But at least start treating them with the level of respect that all humans deserve.

Now, let’s come to the elephant in the room: the love story between Ashwin and Ratna. In terms of class relations, it's blasphemous. Of course, we come across the occasional anecdotes about men having sex with their maids, but rarely do they fall in love with them, the way Ashwin does with Ratna. He respects her and trusts her as a person, and genuinely seems to want to be with her, regardless of what people say. When we say that movies play a role in shaping how society thinks, Ashwin’s character is the kind of shaping that our society needs.

But while Ashwin provides us the window into the ideal society, Ratna holds up a mirror to the real society as we exist today. She gifts him a shirt on his birthday, but insists that he doesn’t tell anyone it’s from her. She is hesitant to be seen with him in public in any way that might lead to people talking about them. There’s a dialogue in particular that I felt drove the point home, when Ashwin asks Ratna to go out with him:

Ratna: Log mazaak udayenge (People will make fun of us)
Ashwin: Kaun log? (Which people?)
Ratna: Raju...Watchman...Sab log (Raju, watchman, everyone)
Ashwin: Mujhe farak nahi padta (I don’t care)
Ratna: Mujhe padta hai, Sir (I care, Sir)

While Ashwin can choose to not care about what people will think, that’s a luxury Ratna cannot afford. Her dignity is bound to her class status, and to her adhering to its rules. She can’t ‘choose’ to ignore the societal pressures and expectations, because they come at the very real risk of becoming a social outcast or even losing her employment. She has seen how people like her are treated and mistreated by the upper class. She knows that no matter how much it bothers Ashwin, her place is always going to be on the floor, and never on the dining table. Ultimately, the choice of not caring about social obligations is one that’s limited to the rich.

Ratna’s fears are warranted. Ashwin’s friend points out to him the bizarreness with which the rest of the world will view their situation. He exclaims point blank, “But she’s your maid”. That’s really the only argument needed, because that in itself carries all the social conditioning that’s ingrained into us. “Your mom wouldn’t even sit on the same table as her,” he adds, validating the thoughts that Ratna shares about her place in this society. “People will never let her forget that she’s a maid. Your maid.”

I liked this interaction. Because while it started with almost putting the blame on the fact that Ratna is a maid, it moved on to admit that ultimately, it is the society that is a problem, as it will not be able to accept her into its ranks. And I think that’s really the crux of the film: a critique of our society as it currently exists.

Our country comes from a long history of casteism, and in some ways, I’d like to believe that we have taken some steps to challenge that. Of course, casteism still stands very strongly, but at least we’ve reached a place where people are able to talk about it as a problem. Few families (admittedly, very few) are trying to move away from caste based relations in matrimonial sites. People are becoming more vocal and critical about honour killings, and atrocities committed against Dalits.

But while these are great steps (albeit small ones) towards becoming a more humane society, I think we use this as a way to pat ourselves on our backs and congratulate ourselves for our progressive outlook, all the while ignoring the daily discrimination we met out in the form of class dynamics.

Maybe it’s invisible to us, but that discrimination exists. It exists in the way we talk to our domestic help, ordering them around without something as basic as a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. It exists in the way we talk about our domestic help, clubbing them into a category of “them” and generalizing them as “these people” so that we can then criticize them as a group. It exists when we keep separate utensils for them to eat and drink from. It exists when we don’t allow them to sit on chairs or beds, or else provide them a separate stool on which to sit. It exists when we don’t allow them to use the bathrooms in our house, forcing them to hold in their bodily urges for hours on end. It exists when we cut their salaries for taking a day off, while we expect our employers to give us casual leaves and sick leaves and every other possible kind of leave - in addition to the weekends.

All of this ultimately stems from the belief of seeing them as “them”; someone who is an “other”, different from us. And not just any “other”, but an “other” who is lesser than us in a way, someone we can look down at rather than see as an equal. Sure, you can say that they’re employees, not family, but we don’t even deign to treat them as employees - we expect our bosses to treat us as human beings, but do we do the same for the people who work for us?

Throughout the film, Ashwin asks Ratna to stop calling him ‘Sir’ - a direct reference to the class divide that separates the two of them. The very last scene of the movie ends with her calling him ‘Ashwin’ - a brief moment in which she lets down her guard and lets herself feel the emotions that years of social conditioning have compelled her to drown. Unrealistic? Inspiring? Hopeful? Bizarre? I guess that’s for each of us to decide on our own.

On a final note, I think one other aspect of the movie I want to call out is the way it portrays its characters - major and minor. People aren’t fitted into categories of good or bad. The woman who cheats on her fiance is also shown to be kind to the domestic help. The mother who would not accept her son being with a maid is also dealing with her own trauma of having lost another son. The maid (Ratna) who refuses to break the social barriers of class and be in a relationship with her employer is still challenging the status quo by chasing her dreams and often refusing to care about what people will think.

What the movie does really well is hold up a mirror to our society. It shows us our biases. It shows us the complexities within people. It shows us that anyone trying to break free from the biases is mostly pulled back down by the crowd. But it also does is show us a window: a window into the world as it could be - simpler, more equal, more understanding, more humane. It’s up to the viewers to introspect and decide which kind of world they want to live in.

In the Land of Men

It was a girls' trip
A much awaited one
To shed the weight of daily life
And enter the paradise
Where the sea meets the sand
And when we finally got there
Excited
Relaxed
Feeling the holiday calm take over
We scanned the beach
Looking for a spot
Away from the crowd
Unfettered by humans
(Only inhabited by dogs)
After a quick search
We found the perfect spot
Refreshed ourselves with drinks
And made our way into the water
Empty
But for a family nearby
And as that water touched our toes
It washed away all the stress
The waves fighting the heat on our backs
As we splashed
And jumped
And swam
And soaked in that feeling
Of the perfect holiday
But what felt like hours
Was only a few minutes
Because that’s all it took
For the inhabitants to grow
For people passing by
To stop and stare
And what had minutes ago
Been our empty paradise
Suddenly became
A congregation of bodies
Or, to be more specific
A congregation of men
Staring
Leering
Inching closer
And I’m ashamed to say
That part of me even wondered
If we were the problem
If the wet T-shirt
Sticking to my body
Was the problem
Or if the shorts
Chosen instead of a swimsuit
Were the problem
If we should have dressed differently
If we should have picked a different spot
If we should have skipped the drinks
If we should have travelled with male friends
If we shouldn’t have jumped around as much
Because as their gazes
Travelled over every inch of our wet clothes
That familiar fear
And feeling of disgust
That we had become so accustomed to
That we had wanted to escape from
Came back in full force
And just like that
Our bubble was burst
Reality came crashing down
At the end of it all
This wasn’t paradise
This wasn’t our getaway
This was the nightmare
That we lived every single day
A reminder
That no matter where we went
We would always be
In the land of men.

*********

[This was a post that I had begun to write a few years ago, after a Goa trip with a friend. After this incident, her words to me were, "Ruch, I hope you're going to write about this!" It took a while, but finally managed to go back and complete it].

Moral-Immoral

The irony of a society

That considers it immoral to have consensual sex before marriage

But moral to be raped by your own husband after marriage

Weapon

I used to fear the sword
A weapon of destruction, malice

But as I look around today
And see the world

Cracked
Bleeding
Split
Carved up into pieces

I realise that the sword
Is nothing compared to hate.

Kaash

काश

एक शब्द जिसमे ज़िन्दगी का हर अफ़सोस समा जाता है

कुछ सुनहरे पलों के इंतज़ार में हर लम्हा बीत जाता है

काश ऐसा होता, काश वैसा होता

ये कहते सोचते पूरा जीवन निकल जाता है।

*******

<English transliteration>

Kaash

Ek shabd jisme zindagi ka har afsos samaa jaata hai

Kuch sunehre palon ke intezaar mein har lamha beet jaata hai

Kaash aisa hota, kaash waisa hota

Ye kehte sochte poora jeevan nikal jaata hai

The Moment

There’s a moment
That I encounter again and again
Often when I step out of the house
As the signal turns red
And I slow down the car to a halt
I see a person approaching
Sometimes old
Sometimes young
Male
Female
Androgynous
Able
Disabled
Making their way
Down the line of cars
Taking a path
That I know will lead them to me
And I sit there
Silently
Hoping for the light to turn green
To avoid the moment that I know is coming
When they finally reach my car
And ask for some money
Trying to get my attention
As I shake my head
While resolutely trying to stare ahead
Not fully sure myself
Of the reason to say no
Because the reason I tell myself
Of my wallet being in the backseat
Of the signal about to turn green
Of the lack of change I’m carrying
Are all flimsy excuses
Covering for the voices
That told me often
Not to give money to beggars
Unless they really need it
But the thing is
That they never really told me
How to figure out
Who really needs it
Do I merely judge them by age
Or the existence of a visible disability
What do I do
When I look into their eyes
And see that deep pain
Deeper than I can fathom
A pain
Beyond age
Beyond gender
Beyond ability
A pain reflecting exhaustion
Hunger
Anger
Misery
And how do I ignore
That twist in my stomach
As it clenches tightly
Screaming at me
To take out the money
That won’t make a difference to me
And to give it out
To the one that really needs it
Regardless of what they do with it
A voice deep inside
Telling me
To be better
To do better
To be the person
I claim I want to be
And yet
I sit there
Hoping
Praying
For them to move on
To the next car
Away from me
So I can sigh in relief
And dwell in that miserable success
Of knowing
That today
Once again
I could have been a better person
And yet
I chose not to.

Inner Thoughts

Maybe

The reason we don’t like spending time alone with our thoughts

Is that we’re terrified of what we might discover

Crime

As the jail burst with new entrants,
A single question arose:

“What’s your crime?”
“My voice.”

“What’s yours?”
“My religion.”

Horror

As I see yet another news report about a rape in the country, I wonder what horrifies me more:

The news itself

Or the ease with which my eyes move on to the next headline

Safe Space

Sometimes
To get out of your comfort zone
You need
Not a push
Not a nudge
But just a space
Free of judgement

Crossroads

Maybe
Who we are
Is just a series of crossroads
Between
Who we were
And who we want to be

Your Love

You say you love flowers
Yet you pluck them without a thought

You say you love animals
Yet you serve them proudly for dinner

You say you love trees
Yet you cut them for your own greed

You say you love rivers
Yet you fill them with your filth

You say you love all humans
Yet you unabashedly watch them suffer

You say you love me
Yet you wonder why I look at you in fear.

Best Intentions

Sometimes, the deepest scars

Are caused

By the best of intentions

Art on the Sand

I walked along the beach
Slowly
Leisurely
The waves washing softly over my feet
And up ahead
I saw a man
Drawing on the sand
A gorgeous piece of art
Almost complete
How long he had been at it
I had no idea
But as I came nearer
I saw
From the corner of my eye
A wave
Bigger than the others
A lone rebel
Racing forward towards him
Trying to go
Where none of the other waves would
And I wanted to shout
Call out to the man
Warn him of the incoming stream
The impending fate
That would destroy his art
But the words remained unspoken
Maybe there wasn't enough time to react
Because even if I had
What would it have done
He could no more move his art
Than he could stop the incoming wave
And so
In that split second
I watched
As the wave hit its target
Washing over the creases in the sand
Taking away pieces
That it claimed for itself
And all that remained
Was incomplete parts
Of a missing whole
The art destroyed
The labour made futile
I looked at the man
Grimacing
Wanting to share his pain
But instead
He looked at me
Smiled
And shrugged
And went back to his work
Recreating what was gone
Perhaps not for the first time
Accepting
What I couldn't
That this was life
His job
Was to persevere
Regardless of the outcome
Regardless of how long it lasted
That the fear of the future
Couldn't overshadow
The joy of the present
That all he had
Was his passion
And this moment
Everything else
The future
The outcome
Were like the waves
Weaving their own path
Unstoppable
Like a destiny
Beyond his control.

The Face Behind the Picture

You see me
Smiling
Posing
Happy
A face full of life
Captured in a frame
And to an extent
That's all true
But don't mistake that picture
For who I really am
Because that smiling face
Those twinkling eyes
Are just the surface
Underneath them
Deep below
The core is different
Tumultuous
Shivering
Trying to keep up
With a world it cannot grasp
With rules it cannot understand
Attempting to smile
To seem sure of myself
While feeling like an imposter
Because that confident smile
Is just an act
A show for the world
To hide the wounds
To mask the fears
And those twinkling eyes
Are a trick of the light
Hiding
The wonder
The sadness
The questions
The loneliness
That stay with me
No matter where I go
No matter who I'm with
But I learnt
Long ago
That the world prefers the act
It doesn't like truth
Unless it comes with
Smiles and twinkling eyes
It can't deal with the fire
That burns through me
Raging
Unapologetic
Beyond caring
It doesn't care what I think
Or what I feel
But rather
More importantly
Only how I look
And so here I stand
Smiling
Posing
Happy
A face full of life
Captured forever in a frame

Here's to the rebels

Here's to the rebels
The ones that never really fit
The ones who were "not normal"
Your beings chipped away, bit by bit

The ones who were constantly criticized
For daring to be different
For trying to be who you were
Regardless of the latest trend

The ones who always felt alone
Even when surrounded by a crowd
The ones who felt unheard
Even as you were screaming out loud

It's not an easy path you've chosen
It's going to be a long, lonely road
All you can really do though
Is follow your heart, mind and soul

If you're lucky, maybe you'll meet
A few other rebels along the way
The ones who look at you and smile
And find you perfectly okay

A bunch of strange, quirky misfits
Not so different from who you are
Do lean on them and recharge
Because the destination ahead is far

Some of them might walk alongside
And share the burden for a while
But ultimately this journey is just yours
Walking alone, wearing a frown or a smile

I know the road isn't easy
And often, you want to turn around
To give in to all the pressure
And surrender without a sound

But before you drop from exhaustion
And give up on all that you wish
Know that your struggle is important
And here me as I say this

With every painful step of yours
You pave a new path today
So that someday, another rebel
Might find before them an easier way.

Shades of Life: Grey Clouds

I love my colours
Soft, bright, black, white
Each one carrying its own touch
But there's something about grey
That draws me in
Like the sight of the dark clouds
Rolling in before the rain
Sometimes I like to stand there
Eyes closed
Arms wide open
Feeling the soothing wind
Soaking in the terrifying storms
Breathing in all the grey
Sometimes lighter, calmer
Sometimes darker, angrier
Ever changing
A shade for every mood
And in that moment
Staring at the rumbling clouds
I feel a connection
Like we understand one another
The layers
The shades
The complexities
Of every single moment that has made us
A mix of emotions
A mix of traits
Carrying wonder, joy
Carrying pain, suffering
All of it
Stuffed in one package
Trying to make sense of the world
While still not able to make sense of ourselves
And to know us
You have to peel the layers
See the fear with the hope
Feel the terror with the joy
Knowing
That you may never really be able to pin us down
Because we never stay still
We’re ever changing
Our grey from yesterday
Might be different from the grey of tomorrow
And maybe that's scary
Maybe that's confusing
But maybe that's who we are.

Shades of Life: Black Night

I don’t do it often
Though I wish I did:
Stare up at the night sky
At the dark blanket
Enveloping us all
There’s a familiarity in it
It's always there
No matter what
And unlike everything else
The shades are few
Just a constant black
Staring back at you
Unchanging
Uncaring
Or so it seems
Because as you stare at the darkness
As the noise dies out
And silence is all you have
Something lets go
You whisper secrets to it
Secrets buried deep inside
And as the emotions come out
As the tears roll out
It takes them all in
Protecting you with its darkness
Wrapping its arms around you
Helping those tears float away
To join the many others
Already buried within it
The murmured secrets
The whispered tales
Of forgotten moments
Of souls you never met
From around the universe
All guarded by the night
Reminding you
Of an endless abyss
Of the vastness of it all
And that you
Are just a small part of it
But as you look at that black night
Your tears now dried up
It tells you silently
That it doesn’t matter
How big the world is
How complex life is
How many souls it embraces
Because the ultimate secret
The only one you need to remember
The only one you need to hear
Is that in this moment
You, matter.

Shades of Life: Brown Land

Some look at it

And move on their gaze

What is it, after all

Drab

Dull

Dry

Having neither the vibrancy of green trees

Nor the majesticity of blue water

It’s just brown land

An overlooked shade

Muddy

Boring

Stale

But I’ve come to learn

That there’s power

In the underdog

In the one nobody roots for

And as I continue to gaze

At vast expanses of sand

At towering, bare mountains

At bare, brown land

Spreading

As far as the eyes can see

I feel humbled

At the power it radiates

It has stood the test of time

Like nothing else in this world

Aging

Ever so slowly

Ever so consistently

No matter the changes around

Needing nothing

Enduring everything

Like that wise old man

Shunned by the younger crowd

Yet still standing proud

Not caring what others think

Not competing for a crown

Whispering

Secrets of old

Secrets of life

Telling you

That a moment of surrender

Is all you need

To appreciate beauty

Where none is seen.

Shades of Life: Orange Sun

It’s like magic
The colours painted across the sky
As the sun rises
As the sun sets
That gleam of orange
Piercing through the backdrop
Hitting your core
Forcing you
To stop everything
To take a break
From your hectic daily life
And pause
Just pause
Breathe
Soak this moment in
Before it disappears
And open your eyes
To the wonder
To the magic
That is life
Inspiring you
With its raw beauty
As colours begin to merge
As though putting on a show
For you
Just you
You can feel the rays hitting you
Feel them in every particle in your being
Energizing you
Healing you
Reminding you
That life is beautiful
If only you paused to look.

Shades of Life: Green Nature

There's a shade of green I love
Bright
Fresh
Vibrant
Teeming with life
Like the one after the rains
Like life itself
Nature waking up
Yawning
Stretching
Ready
For the bustling day ahead
Filled with energy
And contagious smiles
Like that first sip of coffee
Like waking up with a kiss
It’s that green of life
Telling you
That you're here
You're alive
To do what you want
To seize the moment
To feel the zest
To live it in
Breathe it in
Do the thing you love
Take that risk
Bask in the freshness
Because in this moment
With that vibrancy coursing through you
Nothing can stop you.

Shades of Life: Blue Sea

Calm
That’s what I feel
Every time I look at the sea
The blue water
Glistening under the sun
Still
Radiant
Majestic
Yet I know
That that’s not the full story
Because that light blue that I love
Is only a part of it
There are shades
Layers
Darker
Deeper
Hiding secrets
Hiding life
Carrying memories
Carrying anger
Which, when unleashed
Can devour us all
Maybe that’s why I like to sit by the edge
Watching from a distance
Mesmerized
Fearful
Respectful
Trying to fathom
The vastness before me
Sometimes I wonder
How can it be both?
Calming, soothing, constant
Raging, angry, tumultuous
But then I realize
Isn’t that what we are?
We can’t put it in a box
Any more than we can put ourselves
Because to know the sea
To love the sea
You have to embrace every soothing, raging bit of it.

The Monkey Bars

Image from Pixabay

"What are you doing?"

Sonu opened her eyes, breathing heavily. Her brother was standing in front, looking at her in confusion.

Taking a few quick breaths, Sonu said, "Hanging."

"I can see that," he said, rolling his eyes. "But why? You hate playing on the monkey bars!"

But Sonu was in no state to answer. Her breath was coming in shorter gasps, and her face was turning red. And her hands! They were hurting so much! Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed herself to hold on for a little longer. But right then, her hands started slipping, and she had to let go.

Landing on the ground with a thud, she took a second to make sure nothing was broken. Satisfied, she sat down on the sand, catching her breath.

After a few moments, when her breathing finally seemed to come back to normal, she looked up at her brother. He was still standing there, hands on his hips, watching her antics.

"So?" he asked again. "Why were you hanging from the monkey bars?"

Sonu looked away, remaining silent for a few seconds. Finally, she mumbled something softly.

"What?" Bhai asked, looking confused.

Taking a deep breath, Sonu spoke again, this time loudly and clearly. "If I hang from there I'll become taller."

There was silence for a bit, and then her brother burst out laughing. "What?!" he chortled. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

Pouting her lips in annoyance, Sonu huffed her shoulders and said, "Shilpa aunty said I would!"

At this, Bhai's laughter died down a bit, though he still looked quite amused. He walked over slowly and sat down next to Sonu.

For as long as she could remember (which wasn't many years ago), she had been the short one. Her parents were tall. Her brother was tall. All her cousins were tall. Even in school, she was the shortest in her class. She was always made to stand in front of the line because of that! In fact, there were many students in the younger classes who were much taller than her.

And every time she complained to her parents, their only response was that 'one day' she would shoot up in height. That one day still hadn't come. Until it came, Sonu was still very much short, as people around her felt the need to point out all the time.

One such person was Shilpa aunty, their neighbour. She would often mention how short Sonu was, and this did nothing to help Sonu's mood. But this time, she said something that caught Sonu's attention. As a passing comment, she mentioned that Sonu should probably hang from a bar, as that was the only other way she would grow taller. In hindsight, she was probably joking, but for Sonu, the idea took root.

At first, Sonu rejected the idea. She hated monkey bars. She could barely hang on to the bars for a few seconds before falling down. She was really jealous of Bhai, who would easily cross over from one end to the other, while Sonu wouldn't even be able to hold on to one bar.

But the more she thought about it, the idea started sounding better and better. She was so tired of being the short one. She was tired of being told by everyone around her how short she was, and then having them look at her with pity. She really, really wanted to grow taller now. So if this idea actually worked, it might be worth a try.

So here she was, hanging from the monkey bars in the playground, huffing and puffing, hoping that those few seconds would at least let her grow a few centimetres.

After a few moments of silence, Bhai looked sideways at her and asked, "Why are you so obsessed with growing taller?"

"Don't you remember the picture?!" Sonu asked, confused that he even asked this question.

Bhai stared at her for sometime, as though trying to remember which picture she was talking about. And then, suddenly, he burst out laughing again.

"It's not funny!" Sonu shouted.

Last month, the whole extended family had gotten together. Before they left, everyone had posed for a full family photograph, with Sonu standing in front. But when the photo was finally developed and brought home, Sonu was nowhere to be seen in it! The photographer had somehow managed to click the picture a little higher than needed; and as a result, had ended up cutting Sonu out of the pic. Everyone else was in it, except her!

After a while, Bhai finally stopped laughing. Looking at his little sister, and the lack of laughter on her face, he asked again, "Seriously. Why does it bother you so much?"

Happy that he had finally stopped laughing, Sonu thought about his question. "Everyone is always saying that I'm really short," she said finally, not sure of what else to say.

"Well, you are," said Bhai. Looking at the angry flash in her eyes, he added hurriedly, "Arrey you are short! But why is that a problem?"

Sonu was about to open her mouth to reply, but she stopped short at the question. No one had ever asked her that before.

"I don't know. All the grown-ups keep saying I should be taller. Maybe taller people look nicer?" she said, trying to come up with an explanation that made sense.

Bhai shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes, and muttered something under his breath. "Listen, I'll tell you a secret," he said softly, leaning in.

Sonu shifted, moving closer, frustration slowly getting replaced by curiosity.

"Grown-ups don't know what they're talking about. Listen to what they say, and then ignore it. Otherwise they'll drive you crazy."

Sonu frowned. This made no sense. Everyone always said to listen to the grown-ups. They were supposed to be the smart ones!

"I'm serious!" Bhai added. "Look, they're always after me not to play out in the sun because then I'll become dark."

"What's wrong with being dark?" Sonu asked, confused.

"Exactly! But who's going to explain that to them?" Bhai said, again shaking his head.

"So what do you do?" Sonu asked.

"What I said. Listen to them, and then ignore them."

Sonu looked at him, still feeling a little uncertain.

"Listen," Bhai said, exhaling strongly. "You want to hang in the monkey bars? Then do it. I'll help you."

Sonu looked at him, thinking, and then finally whispered, "I kind of hated it."

"That's what I thought," said Bhai, standing up and dusting his pants. Sonu kicked his leg softly, annoyed at the sand flying all over her face.

"Come on," Bhai said, ruffling her hair.

"Where are we going?" Sonu asked, getting up to follow him. “To do something that’s actually fun,” he said over his shoulder.

The two walked up to the merry-go-round. Seeing it, a smile began to spread on Sonu’s face. "Do you think this might also make me taller?" she asked.

"Definitely not," Bhai said, as he started to push the bars to make them spin. He raised his eyebrows, as though challenging his little sister.

Sonu looked at the merry-go-round, now spinning really fast, and then at Bhai standing on the opposite end. Finally, making up her mind, she nodded and flashed a big smile at Bhai. "Let's go!"

With that, both of them caught on to a spinning bar on each end, like they had done many times before, and swung alongside, screaming with excitement.

New Year, New Me

It happens every year. As another year ends, and a new one begins, the world gets flooded with reflections and resolutions, all hinting towards the same thing: new year, new me.

I know. It can get annoying. There are enough memes making the rounds of the online world to communicate the same. And I don’t blame them.

Resolutions are exciting the first few times. But after years and years of failure, they’re just downright repetitive and annoying.

Or that’s what I like to tell myself.

You see, secretly, I kind of enjoy it. Perhaps not the public declarations of resolutions (because that’s not really my style), but at least, I like the idea behind resolutions.

It’s hope.

Let’s face it. We live in a world that on more days than not, is rather depressing. To add on to that, most of us (at least, I’m hoping it’s most of us) fail miserably at our yearly resolutions, probably within the first few days of January.

Yet as the next year rolls around, we’re at it again.

Why? Are we just idiotic humans who don’t know when to give up? Probably. But I prefer to think of it a little differently; that we’re people who, despite facing failure after failure, somehow find it in ourselves to get back into the rink and give it another try, hoping, that maybe this time will be better than the last.

And that’s kind of inspiring.

Of course, we don’t really need a ‘new year’ to do this, but I think humans like checkpoints. New Year’s. Birthdays. Or, in my case, sunsets. Something that makes you pause, look back at your life, take stock of it, and think for a moment about what it is really that you want. It’s the checkpoint to reflect on ourselves as people, and use the new year as an excuse to try and (hopefully) be better people.

Sure, many of us will fail. Fail badly. But maybe this is one of those things where the end result, as important as it might be, takes a backseat in favour of the attempt.

Where showing up is far more important than winning.