The Unknown Legacy

Are we even aware of the story or history of our ancestors? 

The one before our grandparents? 

How did they look? What did they do? How many children did they have? How many did they lose? How did they bring up their kids? How many partners did they have? How did they treat their partners? Were they educated? Did they have any morbidity? Did they pass it on to the successors? Where they rich? Did they experience any war or natural calamities? What was their mortality? What were their struggles? How was their social life? Have their been incestual partnerships? Or affairs? Were there any illegitimate children?

And their predecessors? Where did they come from? What made them settle here? Did they even imagine their future generations to live the life we are living right now? 

How about the future? How many more generations would we have? Or will it end with me and my sibling? What about my cousins? How many generations more would they have? What all will they have to face? Calamities, wars, global warming, what all? 

So many more questions. Everything will remain unknown to us. 

Mental Health & Family History

This might be a controversial subject, especially when my extended family reads this, but I am glad no one will, cuz this is my personal punching bag. 

Anyway, I have noticed that there many cases of mental health issues in our family - father's side especially. Since I have a little bit of knowledge reading up on mental health issues, I can totally see that there are various issues around. Some are diagnosed, some still in denial, and the rest in delusion. I have also felt that this could be genetic, but I just don't know where it all started. 

But, recently, I have noticed a pattern in a family member (who is no longer alive) from conversations, and I feel that person could have been the source. Or one of the sources.  However, whoever I mentioned this to, are in denial, and the worst, pointing fingers at me saying I could be the one with THE problem 🙂

I somehow feel like Mariamma, from The Covenant of Water, who gets on a mission to identify the cause of a certain pattern in her family, but I am neither brainy, nor have the courage/energy to go behind this lost cause. 

But, I really wish, people identify that there is a strong chance we could pass this on and on, and stop procreating overall. Not just my family, but in general. And in mine, some of us, knowingly or unknowingly aren't procreating anyway, so that fear is gone. 

Ok, rant done. Bye. 

Bitterness

I noticed one thing (amongst many other things) about myself lately - that I have some sort of bitterness towards this gen relatives, and relatives in general. I started looking for reasons - I mean, why would I feel bitterness towards some random kids who have not done anything wrong to me? The answer was quite straight forward but ridiculous (yes, I know)

Their parents, grandparents, the entire relatives I have got, have judged me left right and center and made my life a hell back in my early adolescence. The clothes I wear (it has always been modest), my ass, my boobs, my facial feature, my friendships, my lifestyle, the pictures I post on social media - every fucking thing had been scrutinised and badmouthed to, which ofcourse reached my parents, so eventhough I gave zero fucks about what others thought and lived my life the way I wanted, I had to be answerable for every fucking thing, which was truly none of anybody's business. I mean, I wasn't doing anything illegal or harmful, so why the fuck do people have a problem? 

And then, I see the same people's kids and grandkids doing every fucking thing I did, and living their life to the fullest, with no scrutiny, I find myself building despise towards them. So bitter I want to tear them all apart. Why did I have to face all the bad things, but these kids have it all easy? 

Which made me remember this one thing a cousin once told me - every family would have a black sheep, who's walk against the crowd, take all the pain and sufferings, but makes it easy for the rest of them. And that I am that person in our family. 

So, may be, I should just change the narrative and be proud of myself that I made life easier for these kids. 

It's a task. To change those distortions, but not undoable. So I might as well do that. 

Rant over. 

Ok bye. 

Y2K. When I fell in love

Year 2000. 

The hysteria over the imaginary Y2K virus was finally over and all of us were excited about the life ahead. 

I was in grade 7, on the verge of finishing the academic year in a few months. Since my elder sibling was giving her 10th exams, switching on the television was strictly prohibited at home. My only timepass other than staring into infinity was off the radar. 

One morning, I heard this girl I used to despise (a good friend now) going gaga over some "new boy in bollywood" in the school bus. I couldn't even catch the name. And this became a regular episode. 

Curiosity started building up in me, "what's special about this new guy? Is he like Kunchako Boban?", I wondered. And then, I saw her making wild noises when the bus swift pass a movie theatre. There it was, the poster of the film - a tall, macho guy, with a random girl, and the title read "Kaho Naa... pyaar hai". 

"Another Fardeen Khan."

"Another flop actor."

"Doesn't even have a mustache"

And thus, my curiosity was met with nothing but disappointment. 

Until that point, only two things made me and my gang of friends go crazy - Arathy Chechi, (yeah, it's that same girl you are thinking of) a senior from school who we thought was the mallu doppelganger of Aiswarya Rai, and, ofcourse, Kunchako Boban. To be honest, I wasn't that much into KB, but went with the flow because my friends found him cute. 

So. Months went by. Sibling's exam was over. And television was back in our lives. 

Summer vacation was on. The local cable television back in the day used to have their own exclusive channel, where they'd play latest, pirated "theatre print" films. And I came across Kaho Naa... Pyaar hai. Since I had nothing much to do, I decided to give it a go. 

The songs were extremely catchy, but the girl was quite annoying. But, do we have another choice? Hero was introduced. "DUH!"

Hero meets heroine. (Car - cycle scene) Midhunam innocent.jpeg

And then, this happens. 

"Athisundar", I repeat after SoNYa. 

And that was the moment, dear friends... I fell in love. For the first time. In my life. With this man. Who I thought was "duh". 

That was also the moment, when I realised, that I like men... Even without mustache. 

And I decided, I would marry a Raj, Rohit or Rahul (the last one reference is from KKHH if you couldn't guess) Never came across a Raj, but the Rohit and Rahul episodes didn't go well as I thought. (Screaming still singleeeeee) 

Like most teenagers from my time, I would collect his pictures... Most of my tuition notebooks (because you don't have to cover them with brown paper) had him smiling at me. I would try sketching him, eventhough I am talentless.... The greetings cards I recieved would have his face... I wouldn't miss any of his films. (I had even watched I See You because he appears for like 10 seconds!)

When he announced his wedding, you can imagine how distrauted I was. That same feeling of distraution reappeared when he also announced his divorce, "he's so heartbroken, how do I make him feel happy all over again?" (LOL) And that feeling came back again when I heard he was dating a woman pretty much my age, and they met on twitter! "It could have been me". (ROFL)

Anyway. If you think tall, fair, macho, six-packed men are my type, then you are certainly wrong. Because, the same year... 2000... I also fell in love with another man. 👇

And from there.... Love would happen, every other month 😉 with men who were unavailable for me. (Lolololol)

Okbye. 

"Acha, What is Stress?"

I would have been grade 6 or 7. The one word that always intrigued by at the point was "tension", AKA Stress. I would here that word in every conversation at home, and I, ofcourse a child, who wasn't even worried about studies, was pretty chilled out know what tension was. But, I grew up seeing my parents always stressed about work, home, finances and what not. 

Myy relationship with my father was kind of ok back then; it became strained only when I got into college or so. So, one evening , during our tea-time, I casually asked my father, "what is tension? I don't think I have ever experienced it, not will I, but I am curious". I don't remember his reply, but the joke is on me, because life turned around within a year or two. 

My first bout of stress occurred during 10th grade. Pretty obvious, every child who grew up in the 90s know how it feels. "The decisive period". I remember having an extended menstrual period for over 15 days during the final exams. No one knew why, but today I know it was stress + pcod acting up. From there, my life was consumed by stress. Higher secondary admissions, grandmother's death (my first ever experience up-close) a major surgery right before +2, +2 results, college admissions, so on and so forth. 

Needless to say, at 37, I am on medication for depression and anxiety, and also fibromyalgia, majorly because of the stress that has consumed me 😃 and today, I still can't explain what exactly tension or stress is, but I can definitely tell you how it makes you suffer. 

Life's a little joke, I tell you! 

Sweet Tooth

I can still feel the taste of Saccharine in my mouth. From the small bite I took from a laddu that's been lying around at home. All thanks to my sibling who believes these enormous Saccharine filled delicacies could help our mom tackle the occasional low blood sugar episodes. Despite telling multiple times that, that's not exactly the right way to face the situation. 

Anyway, these sweets often become a hindrance to my always-on-no-sugar-diet. 

Even though my mother tells me that I was a relatively thin child, my memory of myself has always been that of my chubby phase. I have always identified myself as a fat person and nothing really could help me get rid of that image. 

I vividly remember deciding to lose weight when I was in 7th grade, even in my late 30s, I find it difficult to stick to that plan. The main culprit being my never ending love for sweets. 

The problem is I just can't stop with one bite. When the sensation of sugar  hits my tongue, I become something I am not. I'd pull that box of sweets and gobble up an entire box! No, I am not exaggerating. I have the record of eating 10 laddus in one go! And I don't even feel high. All I end up thinking is I NEED MORE! 

And this is one of the main reasons why I look the way I am - obese as per BMI scale. Apart from overeating everything else, ofcourse. 

A couple of years ago, I went on a no-sugar diet. After 60days, I went on a binge. And then I decided to keep one cheat day a week, but ended up gobbling all the calories I missed that entire week. And finally, I realised, may be, sugar and I can co-exist without hurting each other. 

Here I am. Still reminiscencing that one bite a took a few hours ago, and telling myself every other minute "this taste too shall pass". 

Neighbours

She cannot remember the day she moved into this building. A warm, cozy, quaint apartment, tucked away in the silent part of the otherwise buzzling town. She was on the 1st floor of the 3-storeyed building. She was eager to meet her neighbours, all families. 

An old couple, enjoying their retirement years, on the ground floor. They own the building. All smiles and sweet-nothings everytime she comes across them. On random days, home-cooked food and delicacies reach her, packed it tight containers. Scrumptious. A little curious and nosy but they are family. Home away from home. 

First floor. Her neighbours. An inter-religious young couple and their little one. A sweet 5yo. But aloof parents. She has always wondered why. Could be because they don't want friends? But they do. They always have visitors. But, why avoid her, she pondered. Maybe they didn't want interference from her neighbours. Valid. Let them be. But an occasional hi's and bye's with the child leaves a smile on her face. 

Upstairs. 2nd floor. 2 families. A mother and two children; a large family on the opposite side. The mother, a diplomatic woman, her husband lives abroad, and she single-handedly manages the house. Not a single mother, yet almost one. The children. One girl and boy. An overly ambitious girl, jack of all trades, master of none. The boy. Cute. Naughty. Calls her his best friend. He makes her life tolerable. 

The other family. An old couple. Two young children. Their mother. Problematic family. Single mother. Separated with toxic husband. She, the most toxic woman our girl has ever come across. The kids. Tests her patience. The old man, replacment for CCTV. Everyone's always under his surveillance. The old woman. Loud mouth. She manages to ignore them as much as possible. 

And then, there's her. Trying to live life, one day at a time. 

Dates and Heartbreaks

She always believed in one-love, one-man and happily-ever-afters. You know, the things that novels and movies make you believe in. She was a hopeless romantic and she waited for "the one" until life hit her. Like a truck with no brakes. 

Awful. 

She gave up. 

Keeping her dreams and hopes aside, she  started behaving like how normal people do. She entered the dating pool. 

Was it all casual? Yes, indeed. Was it that she wanted? Certainly not. 

Every time she went on a date, her hopes soared. She dreamt of a fairytale. What she got was disappointment. 

Each man left with a piece of her heart. Yet, her heart grew back, with all the hopes right in place. 

They wanted sex. She wanted love. They were ready to call it "love making", nothing beyond that. 

And one day, she died. Passing on her legacy of hopes to another woman. 

She started dreaming of a happily ever after. 

Parties...

I have never been fond of crowd or parties. I have only been at a part once and I hated that experience. It could be my protective instincts that kept me away from crowd, but that was compromised one evening. 

An evening when my favorite people's football team won a local tournament and we headed to celebrate. There were a bunch of men and a couple of us girls. We were having a great time, in an outdoor bar, not a pub, cracking jokes and a lot of alcohol sponsored by the boys. I was unusually very active and talking, because I was happily high. And when the bar was about to close, one of the boys suggested to continue this at a different location, in a bachelor pad shared by 3 siblings and I was the first one to say yes. 

We reached the apartment. A cool, posh apartment owned by these brothers. I knew one of the brothers and almost all the other boys in the party, so was very comfortable around. Until I smoked and was about to pass out. 

I somehow believed that puking would help you from passing out, even though it has never come handy to me ever. I tried it anyway in the loo, ending up tired instead. I went to one of the boys who live there and asked whether I could lie down for a bit. He said ofcourse and took me to one of the bedrooms. Neat and clean and quite dark. He showed me the king-size bed and asked me whether I wanted the lights on, I said no. He asked me to stay comfortable and he would close the door once he leaves so that I would be comfortable. I agreed and he left. I heard banter from the balcony next to the window and immediately passed out. 

I don't know how long I was out, but I suddenly woke up to someone whispering in my ear. I was still very tired, but was slightly better from the whole high and out situation. I could still hear people at the balcony. And then it occured to me that someone was still whispering in my ear "Please turn around". I sensed danger. 

I could feel my heartbeat raise. I knew someone else was with me, and the worst, he was cuddling me and panting. The panting made me froze. But eventually I gained some sense and decided to get out of this situation. His voice was familiar. It was the boy who organised the party. Or so I thought  A good friend of mine. He has always into hugs and kisses but never once did he make me uncomfortable. Why now? I wondered. 

I was thinking of ways to get out when he suddenly asked me "do you want some water?". I hadn't moved an inch until then even though he was literally begging me to turn around. But this question made me relax. I somehow managed to say yes, and he got up to get some water. When he opened the door, the lights from the living room came in and I saw who it was - one of the guys who was quite reserved and spoke little throughout the night. 

I didn't wait for him to return. I got out of the bed, rushed to the area where my female friends and roomies were and said I want to go home. They were all sloshed but it was almost time to leave so everyone joined me. They couldn't sense my restlessness and the need to just leave that place. They took their own time to finally book cabs but I was already sitting in one. 

I managed to tell my friend after reaching home about what happened. But they were too sloshed to even understand. But I think one of them called up the organisers and told him what happened. No one took it seriously. 

I was scarred for life. A few days later, I opened up to a couple of my other close male friends. One of them got really upset and angry. He wanted me to go to the police. Another guy knew the organiser, called him up and told him what happened wasn't cool. 

The guy called. He said "hey, are you still sitting on it? Leave it da. He is not this kinda person. He did it because he was drunk and he is sorry. He will call you.". My disappointment hit the roof. Another mutual friend listened patiently and told me "he is a repeated offender. He has done this before as well. I am sorry this happened to you". All of them still continues to be his friend. And they are no longer my friends. 

 The offenser did call me. Thanks to Truecaller, I saw his name and didn't pick the call. He texted me, I didn't respond at all. He didn't deserve a word from me.

He is happily married now but I am still haunted by what happened. I honestly don't know where all he touched and what all he did, and I despise myself for getting so sloshed. Since I was drunk, it is "my" fault, right? This is the very thing I dreaded all my life. The very thing that kept me away from parties and gatherings. My instincts were right. I was never safe. No woman is safe. 

And it was never me. The onus of this whole incident is on the men. The man who touched me, the men who chose to protect him, the men who are still friends with him despite knowing his offenses. 

And my friends who stood up for me. I am grateful they were with me. But sometimes I wonder, would they still stand up for a woman, if the offender was one of their own friends? I doubt! 

And then, I stopped attending parties, no matter how private they were. 

The Anti-Natalist

"Do you believe in ghosts?", the little boy asked his mother. She smiled, and thought for while - do I really believe in the existence of ghosts or paranormal activites? The truth is she did. Despite not believing in the idea of God, she somehow believed that negative energies strong enough to destroy her and her family exists out there. But, no, she cannot share her fears with her little one. With a smile on her face, she replied "no baby. I don't. Because ghosts do not exist." Her eyes said otherwise. 

The boy thought for a while and asked his next: "what scares you the most?" Her reply was instant: "snakes". She wanted to say "humans" but she knew her boy is too small to comprehend what she actually means by that statement. 

Every evening after work, she comes home, freshens up and goes to her little one's study. The babysitter would leave by then. She was adamant, no matter how ridiculous or busy her day was, she would come back home with a smile, to her son, who was eagerly waiting for her. 

The moment he sees her enter, his face brightens up. He can't wait to tell her how his day was in school. He looks forward to this time with her everyday, where he spoke and she listened. He asked and she replied. There were no distractions, no phone calls, no Instagram. Just the two of them. 

She never wanted to be a mother. She believed she was not meant to be one. Her impatience, moodswings and anger issues and the awareness about them made her feel that she might end up giving trauma to a child, and she wanted no one to go through what she did. But all of these changed the moment she saw him. She felt a strong connection with him when she accompanied her friend to the orphanage. And eventually, after much struggle and a few years later, he came home with her. The most joyous occasion in her life till date. 

The innocent smile of his face made her patient. She became someone she never thought she would - a loving, caring mother who would give it all for this little boy. And she decided to be everything she wanted her parents to be - she decided to be present, no matter what. 

And thus began the journey of the anti-natalist's evolution into a mother.