The Visible Demons

My city continues to be unpredictable even as we collaborate over 2 years now- To everybody that asks me how do you like Bangalore, I love to reiterate: “Hopeful”, sometimes calm, often loud and petite, and mostly shrieking to convince the person asking that I am absolutely, fanatically sure that things will change for better, you and I alike. Phew, that is one pragmatic side to flaunt.

I seem to have figured out as to how do I deal with this city of hope- Between the constant juggle of early mornings and late nights yoga time, why not tire myself after work with the yoga and running so that all I could barely manage to think thereafter is sleep and NOT food. Because food didn’t give up on me when rest of the world did, I hold it in extremely high regards. But all midnight cravings shouldn’t be given in to, therefore, a switch in the exercise time.

A brilliant way to avoid traffic is to choose the travel period around lunch time and go for private single rides for the first half of the month with the salary making me feel royal and enigmatic, and for obvious reasons switch to the share rides towards the later part of the month. This, because I genuinely believe that self-pity helps me stay grounded. And, with some bank balance in my account.

So, three days back while I take the cab back to my home procrastinating about how I haven’t been invited yet to my colleague’s engagement ceremony and what in the world will I wear if it comes last minute- I completely forget to remind the driver to play the 95.0 Radio Mirchi on the FM. 95.0 because when I came to this city first, the people were all gaga about this channel keeping its advertisements to the minimum and brilliant content to the maximum. I was too lazy to explore the other options and willingly succumbed to sticking to this very route for all travels in cabs with radios installed on them.

Anyway, for the ride I took three days back, the channel playing was 92.7 with an RJ hosting a show and speaking to this lady school teacher from Goregaon who was all praises for the channel and the show. And I go in my head, it’s all scripted. They were holding a conversation in Hindi while she told the host about how her school has completed its Platinum jubilee and they are celebrating. I am having a good time imagining how much my Dad would have loved to hear this pure Hindi giant word exchange ceremony and how this lady must be a prolific Hindi teacher. And she takes that exact moment to clarify that she’s a Mathematics and Science teacher. I am both stunned and impressed. Also embarrassed that why I judged too quickly.

As my ride is about to finish, the song that plays next is “Humko mann ki shakti dena, mann vijay kare, Doosro ki jay se pehle khud ki jay kare” and I am all dewy eyed that it’s been years I listened to this favorite song which not only used to be one of the school prayers but also an irritating wake up alarm set by Dad which followed with a long morning walk at 4 AM and speech exercises and this bitter brown drink from some herbal leaves which is supposed to get your memory stronger. Shoot, awh- it sure led me to not forget any of these!

Well, I guess 92.7 Big FM is to be thanked for. I judged too far away, too many things before exploring and finding for myself. Why can’t a lady speaking fluent Hindi teach Mathematics and Science? My Dad’s a Ph.D in Hindi and one of the most well informed/spoken people I know on the planet. What’s with questioning the people getting married at 32 because it’s too late and at 23 because they probably are not ambitious enough? A male friend suggesting you do not wear shorts to the night ride might not be because he doesn’t approve of it but probably because it is colder at night and he doesn’t want you falling sick. 

A plus size could take interest in Martial Arts as much as a zero figure could be a foodie. Somebody adorning a saree could be a foreign minister and a bald man may have just chosen to go for a clean shaved head and not be a victim of hair loss. A shy, non-English speaker could represent a community before the ex-president of the United States and a Chaiwala could most definitely vouch for living with a million abuses from his ministry every single day of his tenure as a Prime Minister of the biggest democracy of the world.

Sure we aren’t bound to make our fair share of assumptions only a certain way but there’s got to be sense of understanding needing to develop.
All body sizes exist because of various reasons.
All girls with short hair are no lesser ladies and not every man who cooks and takes care of babies is less of a man.

White is gorgeous but brown’s got its own sparkle. 

Because Muslims eat beef and Christians drink, we shouldn’t be restricting our children to keep the company of kids with same caste and color.
Every language is beautiful, no profession is small and money isn’t everything.
There shall exist our individual battles and there will be times when we’d need to come together and accept, and act upon.

The world’s scarier when we tell our sisters that provocative clothing leads to rape and fail to even identify with Marital Rape. Between the sizes of the cleavages across to the lengths of the penises, there also exist communities who do not possess any. Love can exist beyond genders and feminism can be misused.

There’s each of our clocks ticking and like Rumi says, beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoings, there’s a field. I wonder what we shall carry to that destination when the procession begins- a truckload of imposed choices and judgements, or the acceptance and pride of living as one people?

It’s never too late to not re-think and re-start.