Honey Bee

Why I fell for him head first, when everyone else said it was so wrong...

Because he was a L-I-A-R... the greatest one that I have ever met...

Because he told me the best lies about myself that no one ever told me....

That there was no other like me...

That I was the best amongst everyone he knew....

The best driver and the most confident presenter..

That with my public speaking skills I belonged on the world stage some day...

That I was the hottest girl, his little queen and no one else's...

That my skin was baby soft, like butter, like silk...

That he lost his mind when I took his arms and wrapped him around me...

That my touch made his heart flutter more than his highest success...

That he knew every curve of my body, every look to a fault...

That our jokes were never spoken out, but always ended in a muffled laughter in a room full of people...

He stood towering over me, I was tiny.. 

He made me stand on his feet, and embraced me around the waist...

And we danced slowly for nothing...

He lifted me up to the heavens and showed me me off to the universe...

He told me I was unlimited, boundary-less, madness...

My messy hair was his nest, my cinderella feet stress balls in his big hands...

I have known love at other times too, but they don't lie to me.. about me..

He lied so much that I sometimes became those lies for him... 

And I believed those lies about myself too...

I only wish he was mine...

But he could not be..

He will always be my if-only... A LIAR... But made me a believer... My greatest liar of all...

Why didn't you leave?

Abuse is strange. Abuse has an impact that is counterintuitive. Everyone asks the abused "why didn't you leave?" 

But the same people asking the question may not be able to leave themselves and be putting up with an abuser in their own homes. 

That's how abuse works. It plays hot and cold with our minds so many times that slowly our brain dissociates from logic and the obvious solution - leaving. 

The first time I am hit, I experience shock. Then I cope thinking I must have done something and try to justify the abuser - because I love him too much + the home that I am here now feels safe + walking out is shameful. 

The second time I am hit - I try to justify it as his anger issue. I tell him it is not acceptable behaviour. And he also profusely apologises. 

The third time I revolt a little. He uses his family and friends to make me "understand" what a nice guy he is and he is trying.

Then the fourth, fifth, sixth. Slowly I begin to think that it is my fault and my shame. 

Seventh, eighth, ninth - my brain has started to accept the toxic drama as normal. Just like my mom or dad used to hit me when I was wrong. And I already have a child - they need a father, I cannot just walk away.

Tenth - it is in front of the child. He drags me by the hair and thrashes me. My child screams in fear. I come out and comfort my child - nothing has happened, daddy just got upset. Don't you see how much he does for all of us?

One day when I leave, after 7-8-10 years. People say "you should have tried harder". And only some of them ask, "what made you stay?" Notice how the victim is shamed - if you leave, it is shame, if you stayed it is shame. Because we are not aware how in a strange slitherine way abuse messes our minds.

(P.S. the above stories are a compilation of real lived experiences of different people from different walks.)

Therapy is for you, not for me

"Oh! you are taking therapy? That is awesome. You are so brave. If you feel something is wrong with you, you should get treated."

"Nah! I don't need therapy. I am okay, I am strong enough. It is just a regular thing, you know? I can handle it."{

Most people will be very happy for you if they heard that you are going to a therapist or a counselor, but if you suggest it to them, they will say they don't need it. 

The process of therapy is not easy. It feels like peeling back a lot of layers of dead skin, burns, scars, ga[ing wounds and underlying infection. And then putting a balm on those time after time after time. And worse still your surgeon i.e. your therapist is actually not dressing the wound, but guiding you on how to do it.

The most frustrating part about therapy and self-awareness is that even when you know that somewhere your inner child is seeking validation from the wrong places, that you still continue to seek for it in the wrong places. It doesn't stop. No matter how many people you have to love your adult self, there is that one day when it may just all fall through. 

That even as you are aware of the journey of your parents and other caregivers who affected you unwittingly and perhaps unintentionally, and you want to forgive them deeply and unconditionally, their devil continues to provoke your darkness and you respond - with anger, with frustration, and with thoughts of self-harm, and  sometimes seeking that guilty pleasure of wishing they did not exist. 

Even as you call it out, and admit that you are working on it, you may be more self-aware and empathic, others who carry on without remorse will call you crazy and misfit.

Therapy is not easy. The label of someone under therapy is not easy. Dealing with yourself and all those dark corners of your life that you had to turn to get on the path of life, it is not easy. It takes courage and a commitment to fight for yourself despite the world and our culture. It is hard to cut toxic cords and yet take care of people who were given to you through your karma.

But I want you to know that I understand. That you are loved. That your journey is unconditionally understood. That the universe has your back. That in your darkest moments, if you are willing to reach out, the universe will surprise you with support from unexpected places.

Love and light

My gender experience in Kolkata

The intellectual, well-read Bengali needs to wake up to the fact that all the revolutionary ideas that they have read while growing up, are not to be taken merely in a cerebral manner, but is also to be implemented in day-to-day life.

I came to Kolkata a year back. Been in Delhi for 15 years (2005-2015). Delhi was love. Delhi taught me how to stand up on my two feet, to stand up for myself and to stand up for others. And no matter what we do in Delhi, for better or for worse, it gets highlighted. Delhi gave me the opportunity to understand the corporate world and professionalism, it allowed me to mix with the political clout - the AAP, the Ministers and Bureaucracy of the ruling parties in State and Center. My career also allowed me to rub shoulders with the who's who of the industry - the C-suite of the top business houses, and the media. 

On the streets of Delhi, I have seen pride walks, slut walks, campaigns against rape laws, I have seen the presence and absence of police and administration. I have seen rowdy neighbours, but I have also had the delight to be with neighbors who were like a network and did not hesitate to knock on my door and send me soup and medicine, even as a contagious pandemic raged outside. In corporate houses, I have seen talks on gender, diversity & inclusion. I have sat through hours of meetings choking on an ominous smog trying to understand how to build a sustainable environment.

But in Kolkata, I am having a very different experience. I see how a lot of things that people elsewhere are revolutionizing is still normalised here. It may not be for everyone and everytime. But more or less, I am observing a few things in disturbia -

1. 1. In marriage, while on papers it is a shared responsibility, in practical life you are still expected to behave in a certain way, and naturally undertake certain responsibilities
2. 2. Working/career in many cases is an option. You may be expected to be a homemaker before anything else.
3. 3. Social circle and social interaction may have a divide. Men sit with men, women with women.
4. 4. Much less women drive
5. 5. A lot more people are homophobic - LGBTQ to them is a Western concept. Especially a lot of the men here think gays are abominable
6. 6. The word "rape" or rape-jokes are sometimes loosely used in a humorous way, whereas in Delhi many people have risen to the fact that this is not alright, and rather offensive
7. 7. Plastic usage is very heavy, waste segregation is poor
8. 8. Beating their children is a thing. Cognizance of child abuse and child psychology is low
9. 9. Divorce is a stigma. By having a divorce, the belief is you break the family. So you keep holding on to bad marriages for sake of society
10. 10. Neighbourhood is interfering most of the time and want a piece of your personal life. But are not useful when you really need them in sickness etc. 

While not all of the above may not be true for every household of every locality, but I have highlighted at best an approximation of my observation. 

#jaagoBengalijaago

The empath is the womb through which a new universe will always emerge

What hurts you, blesses you

Dear Empaths, 

This planet is made up of two kinds of people - one who gives and one who takes from it. Healers, lovers, sufis, travellers, environmentalists comprise the empaths - people born with their cups filled with love that they have to offer to the world so that the world can heal from its incessant pain and abuse. These are the gems of humanity who can put the pain and the sufferings of others ahead of themselves. These are the people the world needs but do not want - the people who make the world go round while they bear the cross.

The journey of the empaths is one of the most difficult ones. It is one of constant pain and pealing and experiences. It is how it is meant to be. An empath is meant to be broken up, cut to pieces with shards of terrible experiences. "A wound is the place through which light enters you". I never understood this until late in my life when my heart had been broken so many times that there was nothing left to be broken. I stopped judging the world or myself completely. What was left of me was love and acceptance, and deep surrender to the energies around me. My recluse became my little hut in my heart and I was able to hold other people's hands when they needed some respite. I realize the value of the pain I was put through, some of it I inadvertently chose, when people started to stop at my little hut got a bit of placebo from my experiences, and got the energy to move on.

This is the journey of the empath. A loving and feeling person initially is like a child - innocent and loves everyone with all his or her heart. They come from a place of seeking love in return as well. But life takes its own course. Universal love is not about one person or fulfillment of one or a few relationships around you - it is about your capacity to love the entire world without losing yourself. The child-like empath needs to learn to grow through the pain, the rejection, and the guilt. They eventually learn that they are as beautiful as is the rest of the world. They learn to look out for themselves, to express with some gumption what they need and what they don't like. This the art and science of an authentic life, where you don't put yourself behind everyone else nor trample over the lives of others. You come to a place in your heart where you find that pot of gold - it was always there inside of you. But for this journey, you must first take care of yourself. The pain, the bad relationships only are a reminder that you belong to yourself first. Once you learn that you need to take care of yourself first, you will not give anything to others with the hope of love in return - you will then love life the way it is, you will love all connections around you and you will be able to become the nurturing force of this world that an empath is meant to be.

I know that I may sound eccentric to most people. But I certainly hope that some tired traveler finds this chalice when needed, drinks from it, and is able to trust again the journey that he is on. Everything is in divine order. The very hand that rocks the boat also nurtures the flowers. Life is everywhere around you - in your solitude with yourself and in the people around you. Breathe with it, sing with it, dance with it. And I hope that you are blessed with enormous amounts of love from the universe. so that your cup is never empty.

Peace and love!

The Pygmalion Child

There is no scope of expressing yourself with him. He wants everything to run like clockwork upon his wishes. 

I know that you do not have a way to talk about your displeasure. Instead of understanding the reason behind what made you upset, and like a healthy parent discussing a solution, his fragile ego takes any contention to be his failure - you must know that already, my five-year-old.

He wants you to smile at his stunts because it is a trophy for him, one that validates him. His life is a true social-media con – glittering smiles, twinning and winning, sparkling festivals, bunch of friends wooing Johnny Bravo. And you must fall in line, finding comfort in every Christmas tree he brings home, every Lego he imports from somewhere to be able to show the world that he is giving you the best. The best of dresses, ribbon on your tresses, colour for your books, piano lessons, ballet shoes or football. He will give you everything that you want, but never the attention that you seek. Between what you seek and what you get, he will always leave some gap. And you will learn rather quickly that you must chase after that mirage that will never be.

You will also have a few more lessons – you will be taught that expressing your displeasure is a punishable offence. Punishment includes withholding of affection and availability, the silent treatment if you will, the long face and hollow look. 

You better listen to him – your mum will teach you how! She knows the rules. The boardgame was supposed to be theirs together. But she is all but a pawn now. He throws a six, she moves six places. He throws two, she takes two steps. He overturns the board – she waits on the floor to be picked up when he starts a new game. The game is completely his!

So, she knows the rules. She has been played long enough – she is used to it clearly that playing by his rules comes naturally to her. You must worship the hands that roll the dice. Else, she will tell you off for being too demanding. Your grandma will put on your five-year-old shoulders the responsibility of holding together their marriage. “Hush child! You must not speak a word about it outside” – they will tell you. “Get cute with your father, swish your dress like a doll; that’s how their marriage will be saved, else…. (it’s all your fault!)”

Your father will make mistakes – and yet you must count on him and treat him like an alpha. We know that he is afraid of being called out. He has a fragile ego. He is a broken child inside. Perhaps he was told off for being “a weak sissy”. And that was when he decided that strength meant not expressing yourself loud.

And you will get treated the same way, child. This abuse will feel familiar, it will be normalized by the archaic societal templates. And then one day when you grow up, you may learn to revolt, to hold your ground. But do not worry since you will have a crush – insanely, stupidly - on a knight who will come galloping to your doorstep brandishing his sweet new narcissism. And it will feel so familiar – this alpha thing, the love-drama, the gallantry! 

Not before long will you notice that you will have fallen in love with your father’s shadow all over again!

The Paperweight

And one fine morning, you will wake up and you will not disbelieve in anything anymore. You will look at your life playing out in divine order. You will feel every emotion, every energy, and smile. Even if there is that residual sadness, it will sit quietly inside you and not gnaw at your heart anymore. You will be able to look at its beautiful crystalline form twirling under your joyful fingers – like a beautiful crystalline paperweight on your desk that once held down sheets of paper, but now you use like a spinning top during an engaging conversation – as if it were a happy, weightless object under its master’s divine hand.

You will know that the grief is only an item in a bright sunny study. It has shrunk from being the mammoth brittle rock occupying the entire room. It once was. But it.

It has metamorphosed. It now shines like diamond, reflecting the sunlight despite itself.

That’s how light sadness will feel today. And every day, from today onwards.

I promise you will reach that day if you are willing to stay committed to finding the purpose of your life.