Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

Sunday, 1 August 2021

Let's Be Friends by Shristi Nangalia

16:00
“It’s Sunday! And it's friendship day! Let’s go fishing!” I was excited to test the new fishing rod that I bought. Coco, my Labrador, came running to me. Behind him, came my 9 year old son, Dhiru. But he did not look very happy.
“What happened, Dhiru? Why are you unhappy?” 
“Papa, why do we have to go fishing?” he asked in a sulky tone.
“Because... it is a holiday! Don’t you remember the fishes we caught last time?”
“Umm.. but don’t you think fishes like it more when they are under water? I mean, we only kill them for our dinner. We can have... veggies too...” he said.
“Woah, where is this coming from? You had so much fun the other day. I bought this new rod only for you.” I was confused and did not know what to say. Coco was staring at Dhiru too.
“Thank you for it, Papa. But I think we should not use the nature.”
“Use? Yeah, but we cannot do without using nature, buddy.”
“But we are using too much.... Everything of it. And in return, we give nothing.” Dhiru made me start to think.
“Who told you all this, Dhiru? The TV guys?” I really wanted to know.
“We had a guest at school yesterday. He talked to us. He is a conversationist.”
“Haha, you mean a conservationist.”
“Conservationist, yeah!” Dhiru continued... “He said... Our car harms the air, our garbage harms the soil, we use too much water everyday.... and now we are eating nature too...”
“We are eating nature?” I was dumbfounded.
“The animals, Papa! We are eating the nature! Nature has always given to us and we only use it without thinking.”
“But.. Coco likes to eat fish. And we love it too. Don’t we?”
“Yes Papa, but that’s not love. If we love fish, we should let them go. I cannot think of being killed and cooked... and eaten... and..”
“Don’t say that!!!” I shouted.
He went silent. He slowly put his head down in disappointment.  I put my head down too... in shame.
Coco got really stimulated seeing us sad. He vigorously started licking me and Dhiru’s face. Dhiru’s words, Coco’s expression, this silence... everything made me stop and... think.
“Papa, he said we have already used the amount of nature that was given to us for the whole year. It is only August. Now after this, whatever we will be using is not ours... not ours yet.”
“Really? It was the overshoot day?”
“Yes, the overshoot day. Look at Coco... the trees.. the lakes.. they are all our friends. They provide us with food, material and health... and company.” He made sense.
“Hehe, yes...”
“But only they do their part...like a friend. But we are not good friends to them. We only think about us. The wooden floor we are sitting on was once a green tree. They oil we use were beautiful flowers... Nature is all around us.. Helping us live.”
“That is true, Dhiru.” I understood what he was trying to say.
His face was still dull. I wanted to cheer him up.
“Come with me.” I said. Coco stood up at once and his eyes widened.
“Where are we going?” Dhiru asked.
“To the fishes.” I said with a straight face.
“Let’s just not go fishing, Papaaaa.” I could see tears forming in his eyes.
“No Dhiru, we aren’t going to fish. Let’s pick some fish food on the way and you can feed them all at the lake.” I smiled then.
“REALLYYYY... YAAAYYYY.” screamed Dhiru. Coco retorted with running around us.... jumping.
“Let’s just do what we can, from now on. Let’s be good friends to nature.”
“Yayyyyyy... Yes Papa, we will.” Dhiru’s eyes gleamed.
“Let’s go fast!” I said clapping my hands. Coco jumped more.
“Yes.. Let me get the car keys.” Dhiru stood up.
“No bud. We are walking.”

Wednesday, 8 November 2017

Yes, I am an Intersex. - II by Juhi Meshram

19:15

In continuation of 'Yes, I am an Intersex.- I' 
http://www.darshatha.in/2017/10/yes-i-am-intersex.html

It was another clinic. And! I wondered why she pulled me out of one hospital just to push me into another. In last few days my whole world had turned upside down and nobody was telling me what why when. My parents wanted me to take the surgery so I did, my mother wanted me to escape it so I did, they wanted me to not ask anything so I did. But I was not a puppet, I still am not. How could anyone treat me like that. I was standing there at the middle of clinic reception and all these thoughts surrounded me all at once. I freaked out and just ran out getting rid of maa’s hand. As soon as I reached the main gate running across  the garden, I felt a strong hold on my hand that stopped me. I turned to see maa. I was crying so bad that I couldn’t hear her screams. She must have held me tight because I had no control over my body. I was fighting to get out of there all at once. It is then that her words came out, “I will tell you everything, all at once.... but then you have to promise me that You will come here with me... promise?” I calmed a bit and then agreed. I had no choice. Maa took a cab to Mid-day cafe. She was continuously talking to me. At one point, I asked her, “how do I trust you... you have lied before” and she didn’t freak out at me but replied generously, “hear me first and then trust your instincts. I won’t ask you for anything then.” 
The aroma of coffee and a less crowded space relaxed my body but my mind was not resting, “would you please.. now tell me...? Everything.” She ordered a sandwich and coffee first, may be she was checking on my patience and then she chose to tell me, “you were inside me and everything was normal. We didn’t know your gender but we did know about our baby. Everything was fine. Your papa gave me all the love and care. And then! You were born. And I cannot tell you how happy I was. But! Then there were some issues....mm... you are fifteen. I should tell you. Nimmi! Nimisha! When you were born, you were a normal child. You were healthy. And doctors told us that you were girl. And...”
“What do you mean they told you... I am a girl” I interrupted but she didn’t mind it.
“Hunny, how do you know You are female? How do I know? Yes there are majorly two type of bodies and the two types have different parts, different vocal quality, different genitals and different chromosome that lead to different experiences in life due to physical infrastructure. These two types are attracted towards each other. So we call them male and female. We. For our convenience. God hasn’t assigned it. God, or you can say our creator. We have named Him God. And we want these body types to behave the way we want. We call ourself society and set rules for these bodies. I could be a male and your father could be female... if the society had said so. So in that sense...you were a female. But this is how we understand humans. But we are small people and the creator has a lot to offer us. He haven’t just created these two types.... you have heard of transgenders,right? What do you know about them?” She asked me and I was so frightened, “ their gender identity is different from what they have been assigned”. She replied quickly,” perfect! This is what you have read. This is right but very brief. Like we know two body types namely male and female. But there are not just body types. Males and females brains are differently wired, their external genitals, internal, there chromosomes, everything... everything together make them what they are called. But transgenders or more specifically trans man do not have the combinations similar to normal man and a trans woman do not have everything similar to normal woman. That is why we call them that. And we don’t even accept them the way we should. This is the reason you see them begging in the traffic signal and trains. We take their blessings but don’t take them. The families they are born to, don’t accept them and leave them to do all this.”
I got her point, “If we worship our creator then we should accept all its creation including animals,birds and transgenders.” And she went excited,” exactly! And may be we are getting it all wrong. May be, there are not just two body types. Yes what we call male and female are in majority but then transgenders are not made by mistake. They are just the third type of human we don’t understand. And have you heard about LGBT?”
I was quick to reply this time,” yes... lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender”
She was happy, “great! But this is what we commonly know in india. But the whole study says it is LGBTQIA.  You know the initial four and then... Queer, Intersex and Asexual.” 
“What are these?”, I had entirely forgot about my problem till then.
She started again, “queer is the type of human who don’t know their gender identity or sexual orientation or both. Intersex is a whole different thing, and asexual are people who have no sexual desires. Now these are different types of human we don’t consider normal but they exist normally, to a lesser number but they do.”
“What is about Intersex people?” I questioned.
“Intersex people are born differently from what we call a regular ‘male’ or ‘female’, they might have variations of chromosome, gonads, sex harmon or genitals. The real problem in India is, we don’t even know the existence of these variations in human being, we are still struggling with accepting LGBT, that America has done decades ago. It will take time for us to understand the other Q, I and A. It’s okay to take time, but the more time we take the more they will suffer.” 
I knew every bit she said was right,”the reason you are telling me all this is because I belong to one of these, Do I?” It is then that I realised we might be talking about my problem.
“Yes. Now that I told you everything that I had I should tell you about your body. So, you were born normal but with time we got to know you had some issues at least we took it that way. Your vagina had a very small opening, you were small but we decided to consult doctor. You went through some tests.... and what we got to know after that completely shocked us. You went through test to know your internals, and...” , she held my hand,”you had no ovaries and uterus, instead you had testes and you deserve to know that you still have them.” I took my hands back or my senses do that I don’t know but I was moved. But maa didn’t stop, “nimmi, you were patient and understandable when I was telling you about these people but why are you crying now when you know you are one of them” I was crying, I was crying really bad,” I don’t know... I think we behave sane only when it is not related to us, and all the other times we freak”. There was a smile in her face. She
Came to my side and kissed my forehead, “you are my intellect child, you took all this really well. I was not accepting this from you. Okay... so now you know why We didn’t tell it to you before?” I nodded. 
“You will now come with me to the doctor?” I nodded again. I was still crying but I dared to ask again, “but! If... I never ever had... reproductives than... why the doctor was operating me?” She paused and I knew she was again hiding something, “ you will get to know in the clinic”
It had been an hour and I was pretty much normal till the time we reached the doctor’s chamber. “ Hi, I am Mridul. i was supposed to tell you what you are going through but you just ran away and your mother did it for me.” He was saying and it was so embarrassing for me, “so! The only thing that I can tell you know is... I am not going to treat you because I can not. And for two reasons; one I am just a psychiatrist and second, you have no disease that need a treatment. And I am just going to counsel you” I nodded in agreement and he went ahead, “your mother got to know me from Gary, Gary is himself and intersex and is working as an activist for their well being in USA. I had met him during my visit to US for LGBT research and I got to know all this. So I help people here in India as condition for such people is worse here.” I interrupted,” but how did you know Gary, maa”. i felt guilty as no one responded, doctor continued with his words, “you really thank your mother and then you father too. It was new for them when you were born, but when you were 1 and a half years old, doctor told them to operate you and take your testes out, as it may lead to cancer. Your mother fought to your father and dismissed any kind of surgery till they fully understand your condition. And he agreed. They went on researching and talking to different people all these years when you were growing up. They met Gary online and them they met me last year.” He sighed and gulped some water, “But they were also meeting their family doctor because you know parents cannot take chance when it is about their child.” I had tears again in my eyes and he continued, “you can cry. You father just got influenced by doctors when they said testes would make you male gradually and it is not his fault. You can take out testes or keep them intact, it’s totally your call. But then you should know there are consequences when you do so. And even if you don’t take it out you are not going to face problems in life. The only thing you need to do is accept... the fact that you are an Intersex... there is nothing shameful... You are naturally this... and your body will not behave as female because it is not. If you understand these things your life will be as normal and as good as it is meant to be.” 
It was not my only sitting with Dr Mridul. Whenever we needed guidance we went to him. That day when we went home, papa did not scold me or maa for escaping the surgery, he rather hugged us tight and cried his heart out. He didn’t want to lose us. 
I am nineteen now. I am studying BA in sociology and I wish to work for people like me and help them lead a normal life. I have a boyfriend and we are so in love. No, I haven’t went a surgery. He knows what I am and he has no issue. And I am having a very simple life, my parents support me, nishu loves me and everything is so beautiful around me. I have an ambition in life and I love my life, I love mu body and I love myself. I still go to the walk in closet, undress myself and look into the mirror. But I end up smiling at the uniqueness of my edges and curves. I am so much feminine but in a different way. I am thankful to my parents for accepting me and letting me choose what I want to be. 
They didn’t ask me to study science in 11th standard, they didn’t ever ask me to behave the way society wants me to and they didn’t ask me to behave like a girl. I am an Intersex and they let me be it.

November 8: Intersex Day of Solidarity (IDS), or Intersex Day of Remembrance, marks the birthday of Herculine Barbin, a now famous French intersex person. (Source- intersexday.org)

Thursday, 26 October 2017

Yes, I am an Intersex. - I by Juhi Meshram

22:30

Yes, I am an intersex.
It was my 15th birthday. And I knew all about my surprise midnight party. Haha. My parents were really bad with keeping secrets, they still are. As I was left alone at my room, I was continuously looking at the clock tick-tocking to the last hour of the day. I walked around the room, peeped out of the locked doors, went to the balcony, and looked at myself a hundred times. I was wearing a pink nighty and had roughly tied my hair, a perfect midnight birthday-girl look. I was looking at myself. Tip to toe. I wasn’t curved like my friends. I was thin, my breasts were hardly round, but I had lovely pink cheeks. Maa would often tell me, “not all girls have curves and you are still young”. But, I was going to be fifteen and was excited to see my body grow to look feminine, like my mother’s.
Suddenly! The doors opened and there was everybody; maa, papa, nishu, masi and tiffy. They screamed together, “ happy birthday nimmiii”, and my fifteenth birthday began. 
I woke up early that morning. Dressed up for school, as I was stepping downstairs I heard my parents talking.
“She is fifteen now, till when do you think shall we wait to tell her?”, I knew they were talking about me.
“It is not easy, you have handled her the way you wanted but this time I will do it my way”, Papa responded furiously.
I could hear everything as the staircase was adjacent to the walls of kitchen ending before the dining, but they couldn’t see me as I was mid way on stairs. 
Papa left for office and I entered the space. 
Maa, as usual, put on a smile, as if nothing happened. She praised, “you are looking pretty and got ready on time, sorry I couldn’t wake you up... mm.. I was busy making this..”, and she offered me my favourites breakfast; aloo parathas, baked potatoes, strawberry shake, and much more. She made me forget everything with this and I ate a mouthful of it all.
I got a lot of gifts that day. My birthday party was something that my friends did not forget for months. The food, music, , decoration and the hosting by my family amazed everyone. 
But I was stuck by something. The thing, they were not telling me. I knew there was something wrong with me. I was sitting at my room that night with an overloaded bed with gifts. My little sister, nishu was so excited to open them all at once, but I couldn’t match up to her excitement. I excused her and went to washroom. I undressed myself and looked at my body. My walk in closet had full length front and side mirrors, I could see every inch of mine. It wasn’t the first time I was doing this. I had even searched on the internet for a teen girls body and how it should grow. Maa always avoided this conversation whenever I had asked her. My parents used to talk about me secretly and their discussions were always serious. I sometimes felt I was the reason for disputes between them, for some unknown reason. But.... never dared to ask them. I was not usual. My privates looked different to what I had found in pictures on internet. I didn’t feel the way my friends used to feel when talk about any senior boy, there was so much that I had to know. I was staring to my naked self when nishu knocked the doors. “didi! Papa is calling you” 
We were there, all three of us. Maa, papa and me. And there was silence. Because I dared to ask this time... “what is wrong with me?” 
My parents couldn’t say a word as I continued, “I know there is something that you two are hiding. You were talking even in the morning about it. Why are you not telling me. I am fifteen, you people should tell me. I am grown up.”
They calmed me down as I was getting hyper. And then Papa signed maa to proceed, “Nimmi! First of all I don’t want you to freak out. We understand, you are grown up and you need to know things... about yourself that we know. When you were born you were infectious, even we don’t know the reasons but you were. After few days when you were born, we had to admit you in the hospital because you had urinary blockage.... and that infection couldn’t be treated. That is the reason...”, maa was yet to complete when I freaked out, “ what? What infection? Why is it not treated yet and why not I know this...” but she calmed me again.” Beta, you were not at the age to understand these things... are you getting me?..... would you please listen?”
I settled down on sofa near them and maa continued, “so we want you to know and understand it fully before we treat you... and we will see your doctor tomorrow and get it done. Okay?” 
“ but what is the infection? I am sure it is the reason of my slow growth, please tell me” I requested. But they asked me to wait till the next day.
What I was told the next day took my world to an extreme end. The doctor’s words were pinching and snatching my head. “You have an infection in you genitals by birth. The reason you don’t experience menstrual cycle..... we have to take your genitals out so that you don’t catch cancer” I was shattered. I couldn’t utter a word. We came back home and I went straight to my room and locked myself. For hours, I was there in the bathroom crying and crying. With maa continuously tapping the doors. It is when I heard her sobbing that I came out. I announced to my parents that I was ready for surgery. They hugged me. And told me I was the bravest. I couldn’t let my mother cry and I knew it was better to leave a part of womanhood than to die of cancer. 
The days before surgery were killing me to every bit. I thought i will die, thought my parents would not love me anymore because I will not be able to produce child.  Nishi will not love me anymore for not telling her what to do when have periods every month. I was having bad thoughts. All bad thoughts. I was admitted to the hospital a day before the surgery and papa was there with me. I wanted maa to be there but she was home. They told me nishu needed maa and they wanted to keep her away of this. The next morning Maa called papa and told that he had to visit some client. He kissed my forehead and said to be back soon. The surgery was yet to be done when maa came. I was so happy to see her. I told her how much I needed her. I held her tight. But, she held me even tightly and said something I was not expecting, “nimmi, we are going to a place today. We can have this later when you are ready.” I was not getting any of it but she didn’t seem to care. She didn’t care of what the doctor said and took me out of that dooming scenario.
Next, we were on cab and maa was continuously ignoring papa’s calls. I remember, that was the first time I had heard the word ‘intersex’ and it was unknown to me then, that this word will become my identity.

To be continued...

Sunday, 15 October 2017

Kalam, the inspiration by Juhi Meshram

20:45
In the family of a debt-laden father and a bed-ridden mother, I am the elder sister to a 16 year old brother. Life has never been compassionate to my parents. Business never worked out, health never supported and finances were never sorted. Luckily, I qualified the entrance test and got myself an undergrad seat in one of the government college away from my hometown. Though the fee was way less than that of the private colleges, my parents used to struggle paying up on time. However, my mother made sure I completed my graduation, taking financial aid from her brothers. At the outset, I finished my studies with a fair result.
Post graduation, mother’s health started deteriorating further and we did not have sufficient money to give her care from a private hospitality. I was offered a job at a distant city, which I refused, only so I could give utmost attention to her. There was a list of expenses and liabilities laid in front of us, but no assets, no income to cope up with it. Father’s retail shop was of no good.
We were in a fix... Until one day, I saw our President, Dr. Kalam, delivering a speech to the students of a university. The moment he said ‘thank you’ and got off the stage, I knew who to seek for at this moment of disgust. I started following him.

The challenge, my young friends, is that you have to fight the hardest battle, and never stop fighting until you arrive at your destined place. What will be the tools with which you will fight this battle? They are: have a great aim in life, continuously acquire the knowledge, work hard and persevere to realize the great achievement.

My aim was pretty clear, but I started wondering how to channelize hard work and perseverance. Being the potentially stronger in the family, I was expecting my father to figure out everything. I fought with him for his negligence, cursed him for not working enough and almost murdered the respect that I had for him. But it wasn’t bringing out a change. Rather, it was worsening the situation.  
When it comes to us actually making a positive contribution to the system we lock ourselves into a safe cocoon and look into the distance at countries far away and wait for a Mr. Clean to come along & work miracles for us with a majestic sweep of his hand.

It struck me hard. What was I doing? I felt silly for pressuring and cursing my father. I finally stood up to be the magician myself. Mother’s medical urgency was prompting me again and again; and I knew I could not wait any longer. I started stressing on the different things that I should do to bring in some help. I asked my peers, teachers and relatives but no one showed enough concern. I applied to a number of jobs in my hometown but there were no vacancies. I personally visited them too, but the hiring season had gone past. My mother asked her brothers for help again, but they refused this time as the previous dues were not cleared.
We were slowly losing hope. In the process, my mother started undergoing mental traumas. I was running into a distressed state where everything was turning black. I could not see any rays of hope, recovery or sanity. I found myself staring at the ceiling with a blank mind. Doubts started creeping in; will we be able to make it?

We are as young as our faith and as old as our doubts. We are also as young as our self-confidence and as old as our fears. We are as young as our hopes and as old as our despairs.

I got up. I needed more of it, I needed inspiration... before it was too late.

Creativity is seeing the same thing as everybody else, but thinking of something different.

All I could see was an end. What was beyond the end? A door? But where was it? I was sitting with my mother while we were going through old photographs. The smiles that we were adorning in the pictures made the moment nostalgic and saddening at the same time. There were pictures of birthdays, anniversaries and other insignificant, but memorable milestones. We came across a picture in which I was holding a big smile, a trophy bigger than my face and a certificate. Mother and I simultaneously remembered that I was awarded the ‘Artist of the year’ at school. She remembered how I used to draw on all the walls of my grandparents’ home, how I repurposed wedding cards into birthday cards, how I made gift boxes out of cardboards of used products....
 Just then, my mind started churning. She was in a happy state of recollecting the long-gone happy days but I was suddenly not paying attention anymore.
That was my moment of creative being.
I realised, I was not putting my talent to work. Graduation business took away my zeal of making paintings and creating new things out of nothing. I started missing all of it. But keeping everything apart, I knew what to do now. I knew now, that there is a door beyond the end- I had to paint it myself!

Excellence happens not by accident. It is a process. You have to work hard to achieve it.

I ordered stationary supplies and started off. I took as much time during the day and worked nights together. Some days, I got only a couple of hours of sleep in total. My mother started worrying but she knew I wouldn’t stop.
 I worked hard with perseverance. Finally, I came out with a series of paintings, collectibles and gift items. It took time, a long time; but it was worth it. I approached a few galleries and they agreed to buy them at a handsome price. My creations were sold out within less than a month and I was left with a pocket full of solutions.
Everything started to fall into place. My mother recovered, I arranged a small toy shop for my father and little brother acquired his degree too. Things were not super great but we were just okay.
 I owe my success, my mother’s life and family’s stability to the finesse, Kalam. His words were enough to kindle the light in me. In short, he saved me.


I would like to ask you, what would you like to be remembered for? You have to evolve yourself and shape your life. Write your dreams down on a piece of paper. That page may be a very important page in the book of human history.

Thursday, 21 September 2017

Alzheimer killed her; I didn't. by Shristi Nangalia

21:00

A dried fern, a set of utensils, a bed, an old blanket and a ceiling fan. That is all that could fit in his small room, which he was about to leave forever. He had tears in his eyes. He was always confused about why only his room always looked very crowded and others didn’t. His was room no. 11... of the Criminal Cell. 
He was about to be 'discharged’ from his exile. His mother was sitting in the front row of the waiting hall. She was holding a steel box wrapped in her old saree.  She looked tired and rusted. The wrinkles on her cheeks deepened as she smiled to her son, coming from a distance. He did not smile back. He came closer and stared into his mother's eyes.
 'You cried last night.' said he, wiping his tears.
'Saanj baba, englis pura seekh gaya!'  She almost fell in his arms, not able to stop herself from crying out loud. They hugged after a long time... a long 3 years.
'Chal ghar chal, Rani aaj ischool nahi gayi hai tere liye.' She said, waiting for his answer.
'She will loose studies of one day.' He replied, again in english.
'Englis seekh rahi hai wo bhi.' A satisfied mother said as they stepped onto a rickshaw.
'Saanj bhai, kaisa hai re? Pehchana mujhe?' asked the rickshaw wala with a big smile.
'Anup. How are you?' said Saanj, remembering him this time.
'Very fine, very fine.' His smile curved even more.

They got down in front of a little snack shack. A short girl, with a book in one hand, waved to them from inside and came running to the rickshaw. She was about to hug his brother, Saanj, but hesistated. She asked instead, 'Bhai, kaisa hai tu? Patla ho gaya hai. Aman bhaiya sab kaise hain?'
He looked puzzled. He stared into nowhere for a moment and suddenly jerked his head and screamed, 'AAJU, AAAAAHH! Aaju ko bulao!!' He screamed with pain as he held his forehead with both hands! Anup and his mother held him tightly.
Rani started crying in despair. 'Aaju mar gayi hai, bhai!! Bhool ja usko!!'
Anup and maa kept holding him. Saanj’s screams slowed minutes later. He sat down teary eyed. Saanj's mother asked Anup to invite Karim chacha.

After a while, Saanj was lying on the bench behind the shack while Rani helped their mother in preparing lunch.
They prepared rice and baigan bhaaja, Saanj's favourite. Rani went behind the shack to call her brother, but he wasn't there. She screamed to her mother, 'M-Maa, bhai kahin chala gaya hai!' She instantly ran towards the two ends of the street and returned. There was no sign of him. She felt guilty of herself about not being careful. Rani then ran up to Anup bhaiya's place to inform him about Saanj’s absence. Anup, without second thought, went on a search and suggested Rani to go back to the shack.

After about an hour or so, Anup returned with Saanj in the rickshaw. Saanj got down and straightaway went inside the shack and started eating the rice and bhaaja kept on the table.
'Wo bus stand me baitha tha. Muje pehchanne se bhi inkaar kar raha tha.' said Anup in a low tone. 'Karim chacha?' asked Rani. 'Aayenge raat tak... clinic band karke.' said he, dissapointed.
Rani went to Saanj and asked, 'Bhai, chess khelega?'
Saanj replied, ' No.. I will win you.'
Rani laughed, 'Haha! Bhai galat bolta hai. I will win over you bol.'
Saanj tried to smile. 'Dukaan... Open when close when?'
Raani said, 'nine ko open, nine ko close.'
'You are in five class?' Asked Saanj.
'Six' she corrected.
She corrected him with the same answer fourth time that year.
'Are ek chai milegi?' They heard from a distance. It was Karim chacha.
'Karim chacha! Aao baitho. Laati hu chai, in two minutes!' Raani ran towards the kettle.
'Saanj beta, welcome back home.' Chacha said.
Saanj starting feeling uncomfortable again. He jerked his head again, this time vigorously.
He screamed, 'AAJU KO NAHI MARA MAINE! AAJU ZINDA HAI. AAJU KO BULAO!'
He was shivering and shouting. Chacha held his hand tightly and gave him an injection. Saanj slowly went in a trance, unconscious state. Rani and his mother watched from a distance.

The time Saanj was up, Karim chacha was sitting beside him, writing something in his diary. There was nobody else around.
'Aman taught you English?' Asked chacha.
'Yes. Aman thinks i am good.'
'Aaju. She is dead. Do you accept?' Chacha asked.
Saanj was quite.
'Do you accept?' he asked again, trying to push his feelings.
'Your question hurt me.' Saanj said, closing his eyes.
'It is good that you are feeling it, you have to feel Saanj. Let it out. You will feel good.'
'Chacha, I know I need medicine.'
'I will help you with it. Hindi me baat karen?'
'Haan.' Saanj said.

A few days later, Anup and Saanj went to their junior school to meet their teachers. Saanj was an obidient and curious child back then. He always wanted to learn speaking english. But due to their low financial status and problems with father, he could not complete his schooling. He wished to see his mother and sister happy... always.
'Did they keep you in very bad condition?' asked Mishra sir.
'No sir. I learned to live there.' Saanj replied.
'We are sorry to say that you, being accounted as a murderer, we cannot file your name on our Alumni list.'
'It is fine sir.' his eyes were looking downwards.
'Are you comfortable now? Do you feel OK?'
'Yes. I need little time.'
'Ofcourse, you will have it. I am sorry about Aaju. She was one of my favorite students, just like you.'
'She was my favorite too sir.'
'Do you feel, ummm... Aaju changed you?' asked sir in a horse tone.
'No. Something else did.'
'What is it? ' sir asked with raised eyebrows.

'Alzheimer did, Sir.' 

Tuesday, 5 September 2017

A Vote of Thanks by Juhi Meshram

21:30
Like every year, I posted sweets and a card to Nanu, with a handwritten note, "Thank you for being the best teacher, happy teachers' day". I giggle as he proudly mention how one of his students wish him every year without a break. And he is right.  
After all, he was my second teacher... during all those summer vacations, he had taught me life. I still feel grateful to my parents... don't remember who made me walk for the first time, Maa or Papa, but I am sure both made me escape the fall. From how to walk, how to utter, how to speak, how to dress, how to behave.... there were numerous times that I had learnt numerous things from them, and am still learning.
I don't remember my first day in school, but I have those school friends. I learnt to share, to play...from A B C D to friendship, I had it all. We never liked exams but they come to upgrade us to another standard. Like the one did to me.
It was the first time I lived without my parents. But then, hostel had it's own lessons for me. Doing things by your own and friends be family... were the things changed a whole lot of me. 
Travelling alone, dealing with college assignments, career objectivity and learning to survive... it all became easy with time.
And, how can I forget my first boyfriend and first breakup. I laugh on the matter now and realise it was needed to overcome traumas. It had it's own set of learnings... to deal with failures.
My qualification offered me job and my passion turned me towards opening this restaurant... I have reached thinking about my life lessons.
I take this opportunity of teachers' day to thank all my teachers... off course, I can't thank all of them, but the ones who stayed. 
And lastly, when I glance back at my life today, I don't forget to thank myself, for never giving up instead of all odds.

Tuesday, 18 July 2017

Dark by Juhi Meshram

20:00
I was just half awake when a voice encroached my peaceful morning. It was my mother’s, it took me a minute to figure it out.
Next! I grabbed my half fallen blanket, covered my face and tried to sleep. But, the noises did not let me. This time, they were more than one. I stepped down the bed finally, and crossed that distance till living room which seemed to be a mile away. We had some guests and maa was talking to them, or I can say screaming with them. I rubbed my eyes to clear the picture and there I saw; maa, masi, masa and two others. I greeted them, all of them, but they kind of ignored me amid their serious discussion. That day I realised that you might be the best son or you are home for just 3 days or you were a scholar all your life, you will just be ignored if there is a serious conversation going on. And when I say serious, it is not about the cold war between India and China or about the monsoon in Delhi, it was about a neighbour’s wedding. I stood there thinking for a while and then went straight towards the washroom. The voices were so clear from there, thanks to our compact 2BHK apartment. I chose to hear them.
“You won’t believe Meenu, I told his mother straight that how she could agree for this marriage. She just walked away, couldn’t say a word.” Maa said to masi.
“I think there is something wrong with Anup. He is MBA, earns lakhs per month, is good looking, then why this girl? There must be something we don’t know.” masi replied.
 “Yes, she is not even rich.” said masa. This much was enough to tense me. I was suddenly breathing heavily. I had come home for a week for Anup’s wedding. He is not just a neighbour but my childhood friend. We were similar. Went to same school, graduated from same college, I went Bangalore to pursue career in IT while he post graduated with MBA. Last night I was busy celebrating with Anup and other friends. But this morning snatched my hangover. I knew what they were talking about, why they were talking so and why they did not like Anup’s wife. But I prayed not to hear those exact words. But they continued.
“She is an MBA too, they were batch mates…” said an unknown voice.
“But she is too dark, couldn’t you see. There must be other girls in his batch”, I heard maa.
“Yes, you know I couldn’t even get her face, she just camouflaged with the lights”, said masi.
For the next few minutes, all I could hear were laughs. I couldn’t take anymore. They kept on saying when I joined the room, this time without caring about being ignored.
“So you people are talking about Priya”, I sat beside maa. All the faces stared me for a while and then maa said, “Anup is your best friend, couldn’t you tell him to find a good girlfriend.” And the laughs continued. “And why do you people think she is not a good girl?”, I added.
“This generation is so blind about relationships, Raghu think about his kids they will be dark too.” Masi replied to me. “So what masi, even your children are dark, because masa is, does it make any difference to their personality?”, and I crossed the line for them. “Beta, I am a man, head of the family but a woman… needs to be pretty.” said masa.
“So it is not about kids, then what? About being a girl. So, Priya is MBA earns equally like Anup, she has mentally supported Anup when he was down after uncle’s death, and they make a good duo with their compatibility. They have taken responsibilities of both the family way before the marriage and haven’t failed yet. She is better in fact best choice for Anup for she loves him and he reciprocates”, I took a deep breath. “Love lasts for days, but there are other things too, how would he manage with her, I mean how he would love her?” said masa. “Are you talking about sex?” I replied, to which maa frowned but I did not stop, “Let it be a private topic for them.” “But what about family status, you don’t know how her mother is going to answer people.” said masi.
“Which people? Whom should she answer? People like you? Maa? People like us?”

 There was a silence. No! They did not get my words. It is just that… they faced the mirror and stood staring to what they are.

Saturday, 10 June 2017

Estranged within moments by Shristi Nangalia

18:00
Summer vacation had always been my favourite part of the year, just like many other Indian kids! Maa, papa, bhaiya and I made sure we travel a lot and meet other members of our extended family. Visiting our old family home, visiting nana-nani’s place, hanging out with cousins, sleeping until noon and non-stop eating! Even maa and papa did not follow the ‘you have to bath everyday’ rule!
Well, all of this decreased as we grew up. My grandparents perished one by one and everyone else started fighting for the little land and money that they had left behind. Family became foe and cousins became awkward strangers. We four were left with a forsaken vacation thereafter.
We are all grown up now and these memories have started fading. It was 6 years ago that bhaiya got hired by a construction firm in Dubai. About 2 years later, I got a handsome job in Doha as an art instructor. I was allowed to live out of the country only because bhaiya lived nearby. Maa and papa wanted to continue staying in India. Bhaiya always travelled overnight to my place on festivals and holidays even for a day to make sure I don’t get stranded alone on happy days. We celebrated holidays by roaming about the city, shopping for each other and eating junk for dinner.
During his foremost year in Dubai, bhaiya gifted maa and papa a trip to UAE with his first salary during the summer vacation. I joined them too and we had the time of our lives- reliving old memories and enjoying together like we did in India. Since then, it became a tradition. Every summer vacation, we picked a new spot in the Middle East and spent the most happening time of the year together.
This year was different... this year was special. We all planned to stay at my place and tour Doha. I had saved and bought a gold chain each for maa, papa and bhaiya. It was the first time that I was offering them something. I had also planned to introduce the love of my life to them, and ask them if I could marry him. But, things did not happen accordingly.
A few days before the arrival of maa, papa and bhaiya at Doha, I woke up to a shocking news. I could not digest what I saw on the TV. Many neighbouring countries including UAE had broken ties with Qatar. I did not care about the crisis, I did not care about the accusation made, and I did not care about its certainty... it was not the matter of concern for me then. I could only see a failing plan... a failing tradition.
I did not know how to react. I was angry and anxious at the same time. I wanted to run away from here. Papa sounded very scared on the phone and maa was crying. Bhaiya convinced them that the situation is nothing to be worried about. But then, we all were highly disappointed.
I could feel the nostalgia seeping in. Back in the past, relations got abandoned with the family, plans changed, people separated, amity died. I could see everything repeating.  

For whatever reasons it may be, why making a connection and keeping the relation alive has to be so demanding? Why do most relations end up in a brawl? I had lost faith in humanity once again. No connection ever remains forever. Now, all that I could do is wait... and hope. At least, hope remains forever.

Sunday, 14 May 2017

The Absolute Association by Juhi Meshram

15:28


What is the mother? They asked me. And then found the desired answer without my consent and suddenly I became a cover story for that news channel.

Dekhiye iss mother’s day pe, ek bin maa baap ke bacche ki tadap.

You can find an eleven year old boy near the square begging every day. He starts when the signal turns red. Every vehicle that stops at the signal has somewhere witnessed his plea. Some of them ignore, some of them push him away, some give him a penny or two and some of them just pass by.

But! No one ever bothered to think about him, about his background that why is he begging?  Where are his parents? Are they alive or dead? If they are dead why the boy is not sent to any orphanage? Why begging? Is he alone or is there a racket? Is there someone who is forcing him to beg?

What is his story? What is the story of the boy who begs?

The boy refused to tell anything so we decided to cover him one full day. A team of cameraman followed him from morning to night and what we got at the end was shocking…

And they told what I do all day. I come to the signal in the morning, I beg with my friends. We get the money. Give it to Sahab, behind the hotel. We eat wadapav near the station and then we enter the railway station and beg. In the evening we handover the final amount to Sahab. Trice a day that we go to the signal for begging. Morning, afternoon and night when there is maximum rush. At night we often go to beach and beg.

We tried but couldn’t find the link that dragged him to this cruel business of begging. And he is not alone, there are many like him. We have seen these boys and even girls sobbing in the corner, they miss their parents, they say. The only words that the boy said were, “do you know where my mother is, I miss her”.

On this mother’s day, our team asks the nation to stop and see the miserable condition of these beggars and their urge to meet their parents… their mothers.

They lied in the TV show. I don’t miss my mother because I never had one. I have no clue of where was I born, how I grew up and who brought me to this signal. I am not allowed to say who make me beg. But this is the world I live in. All that I can do to survive is begging. But why is it a story for people. Why is it a matter of concern? I beg to live. May be I can do better things, go places and earn more, but how does it matters to the nation?

I have seen people, so many people. In cars, trains, bikes, buses. They travel; they are together, with family. They wear good clothes, eat biryanis, they have family. They must be rich, they enjoy life. But what if I don’t have these, still I breathe; still I earn and feed my stomach. Only thing that I regret is giving my earning to Sahab. He is selfish; he uses our money to feed his family. His wife wears jewelleries. His kids go to school, they don’t work like us. Oh! That is why family is important.

May be I could save myself from Sahab if I had a family. Then I could have all my earnings with me or I would not be working at all if had a family. I never thought this way. But what now? Can I get a mother now?  The TV show said people should adopt us. But why will they? But! If they do, if a mother can save me from Sahab , then I surely need a mother.




Sunday, 2 April 2017

The Superficial Deity by Shristi Nangalia

17:00
She woke up two hours early that day
to take a bath even before it was dawn,
The poor woman was worried for her daughter
but leaving her at home, crying, she was gone.

To mend the grief, she was all set
but, ‘that time of the month’ delayed her ploy.
Since, she was to tour the holy house,
had to returned ablaze, wishing she was boy.

The holy house was far away from her place.
Yet, she had an unwavering trust,
on the spirit who had the power that week
to fulfill all her wishes, to kill all her disgust.

Three days later, she was then eligible,
to visit the deity, and take her favours.
For which she took with her- rupee notes,
all that she collected over the years.

She waited in line for her turn,
Got kicked, and touched, and cursed on the way.
But, it was heavenly when she finally got a glimpse
of the divinity which sat there in brown clay.

She was not even finished reciting the hymn
when the rupee notes were snatched from her
she was then quickly pushed aside, and outside
and joining hands, she came back home in ardour.

Her daughter’s condition was worsening with time,
but she choose to wait like any other true follower.
By the time she almost lost her hope,
Her rupee notes had made its way into the minister’s quarter.

With no option left, she took the little one
to the family that she had, long before, made her foe.
The aunt who was a local nurse took charge
And fixed her daughter, not saying a ‘no’.

That day, the poor woman learnt a few lessons
of whom to trust and whom to ask,
of who is the giver and who is the taker
and of who to believe and who to unmask. 

Saturday, 4 March 2017

Love, That I Lost to Hate by Shristi Nangalia

17:00

“Tea?” I asked, like every other day when he is back from the office.
 “Ah! Sure. Today was again a stressful day. But you know, I figured out something really important today.” he was smiling.
“What is it?” I smiled back.
“Hehe, it relates to the research I am working on.  I was going a little off-track. But, today I fixed it. It was so obvious that I felt sheepish later. But, you see? It was all for the good.” It seemed as if he was talking in his sleep, as if he was in his own dreamland. I loved this thing of his. I couldn’t stop smiling.
And “That’s so good, Suru.” is all I could say.
“Yeah. I have to go back and continue even today.” Suru said.
“You have been doing this often lately. I just want you to take care.”
“Yeah, I know. I want to finish this soon and correctly. Ajay have been helping me constantly. We are good.”
“You don’t look good with dark circles.” I complained, only to keep the conversation going.
“I am dark already. And we are in the United States. Nobody can tell if I have dark circles. Haha!” the optimist joked.
“Don’t say that. You are the brightest thing in my life.”
“Aww... and you are mine.”
 “Come back soon, Suru.”
 “Of course! Thanks for the tea, Soni. I will see you tomorrow morning then.” he was all set to leave for the office again.
“Hmm... I will miss you.” I meant it.
“Aww.... No, you wouldn’t miss me. Because, you would be having a super tight sleep now. You too are working and you get tired, don’t you?” his eyes were in mine.
How does he always manage to make things sound so right?
“Yes... I do...”
“Good. Now, go sleep like a baby. Take care.” He gave a quick kiss on my forehead and went past the main door. I locked it and went to bed obediently.
----------------------
I woke up to see his sleeping and almost smiling face next to me. I checked my phone, got freshened up and went into the kitchen following the daily routine.
“Good morning, Soni.” said a deeper voice of Suru from a distance.
“Good morning. All well?”
“Yes. I had a lovely sleep. So did you. I came back around 3, took a bath and slept beside you. You did not have a hint.”
“Oh! I am so sorry....” I felt guilty.
“Hey, I am kidding. Even, I did not want to wake you up. Now, take the sorry back.” He said.
“Okay... I take it back. Wait on the table, I will bring your tea and the newspaper is on the console.”
“Thank you.”
I woke up at the same time each day but a few days, I don’t know why, I run late. Like, today.
“Can you help me pack the lunch?”
“Noooo... I can’t.”
“What do you always do this, Suru? Why can’t you?”
“Soni.... If I pack my lunch, I would know what I would eat later on. But if you pack it, I will have that surprise element.” He had his excuses.
I waited a bit to digest what he had just said. But then, I couldn’t control my laughter.
“Hahaha! You talk like a comedian.” I said.
He had his funny child-like face on.
“When we will be having a baby, he is sure going to look like you. Exactly this face of yours!”
“No, I would want him or her to look like you.” He said checking his phone.
“We will see.”
“My Whatapp friend’s group is full of messages. Ritvik is getting married, finally!”
“Ritvik from Mumbai?”
“Yes. He is inviting us.”
“Oh, let’s try and take a few days break then. Our long-thought India trip is yet to happen. Maa will be very happy too.”
“You are right. Let me see if I can get a leave.”
“Okay then. I am going to get ready. I am running late. Here, your lunch box.” I handed him the box.
“Anna datha suhkhi bhava!” he said, raising his arm.
He said this phrase every time he is elated with someone’s offering food to him. It sometimes feels so good to listen to our regional languages while living in the States. Detached, yet still very rooted. That is how Suru is. I always asked him if he misses his country or wants to go back because I knew he was one true and loyal citizen. But he was an optimist. He believed if we can live here happily, we should continue to live here... happily. He believed that unless we are good to others, others will be good to us.
----------------------
Later when I was at my office, I received his text-
Going to the grill and bar with Ajay in the evening. See you straight at dinner.
 Little did I know- that this was going to be a lie; that he was not going to see me at dinner that night; that he was not going to see me ever. He never returned. They say he was shot. An overactive ‘fairer’ man misunderstood him due to his colour. At first, it felt like I would go and take away his life. But then, what difference would this make? This wouldn’t bring back my Suru. And Suru would not suggest me to do this... if he was alive.
I did not realise, that I never thought how life would be without Suru. That is why I stay clueless even now... about what actually will happen with me. What made the guy shoot and kill another guy? Hate? Hate for a skin colour, for an entire race? Or was it intolerance? Does it have to do anything with co-existence? Why couldn’t he just live with the hate? How does this hate empower us to the limit that we loose our senses? What did he get out of this? He is going to sleep alone in an empty grey cell for the rest of his life. What a reward he got... for spreading hate.
But the hate remains... in every one of us. Millions of examples lie in front of us. They just lie- dead. Somebody pick them up! Somebody give them a meaning! Somebody show how powerful its antonym, love, is!


Thursday, 23 February 2017

The Girl I See Today by Juhi Meshram

17:00

I looked around the room to find my place; on the left side of the door was a supplanted centre table full of baggage, next to it was a maroon polished almirah that touched the other wall, attached to which was the floral carved wooden double bed full with sleepers and next to that was my sister sitting on the floor stitching her blouse. There was an old computer table on my right that now served as another baggage counter. I found myself in middle of nowhere. Middle! That clicked me and I settled on the floor near the almirah.
Somewhere I felt middle-class to be a social name for poverty, I realised this when I glanced the room for the last time before I took a deep breath to start. And the moment I took out the nail clipper to cut my nails a sharp but curious voice held me in between, “you can’t cut nails at night.” And I faced up to see my cousin on the bed. How did I overlook her while observing the room? I thought... and then I overlooked her one more time. “You DON’T cut nails at night.” she was restless this time. “Yes you don’t”, a voice with more authority came this time; it was my sister’s. 
I continued cutting my long dirty nails and asked them the reason for not doing so at that hour of the night. And for no surprise they were ready with the answers.
Cousin: one loses money if they cut nails at night.
Me: whose money?
Cousin: areyy! Your money, you fool.
Me: who told you this?
Cousin: I know.
Me: how?
Sister: you would have known it too if you listen to our elders... you are a girl...
There is a time you know you need to take the blame and call off the conversation because; if you stretch it anymore it can get deadly. It was that time. I nodded and ignored them at the same time.
I had a sleep. NOT GOOD. NOT SWEET-DREAMY. JUST- SLEEP. It was so because I got to sleep amid various snoring as our tiny middle-class home had no soundproof rooms or in better terms... the doors didn’t close due to seepage.
Tujhko uda kar ke!
Tujhko uda kar ke!
Tujhko uda kar ke le jaaenge badri ki dulhaniya...
I woke up confused to whether I was dreaming of an item song. But! It was television. Drawing room and my bedroom, which was not exclusively mine, were happened to be planned diagonally opposite, separated by a small dining. And slowly as I gained conscience the song was accompanied by other background scores...
 Nani: roti banao jaldi jaldi tiffin bharna hai.
Ma- aai thamb! Ban rahi roti, tu bas.
Mami- kab jate hai chinu aor saha kam par...
And it went on. It was not every day that we had this many people in our house but Chinu’s birthday was some occasion for them to reunite. It was pleasing to meet all, it always was. But to SLEEP, to HEAR, to RESIDE, it was always clumsy. 
I waited for ten long minutes to use the tommilet. And yes! It takes a lot of effort to wait... for toilet ... in the morning. Then I brushed my teeth with cousin Dinky, Parrot Chikki and one other at the backyard.
I stepped into the 7x4 feet kitchen to find three women working in team; one rolling the flour dough balls, other was making parathas and the last one, was cooking sabzi. The moment, yes the moment I took a spoon of boiled egg in my mouth, my nani turned to me, “pehle nahana chaiye tujhe!”
I kept the plate back in the platform sighed and raised my voice against it. I said, “why?” and next, maa gave me an angry look that was enough for me to leave the kitchen that very moment.
I ate my breakfast hearing advices, hopes, stories and what not. But mainly advices... DON’T BE LATE, YOU GIRLS SHOULD COME HOME BEFORE DARK, EAT LITTLE MORE YOU LOOK THIN, WHY DON’T YOU CARE FOR YOU FACE YOU LOOK HORRIBLE, STOP WASTING SO MUCH TIME ON FITNESS YOU ARE NOT FAT BUT WORRY FOR YOUR FACE YOU HAVE TO GET MARRIED.
Maa’s continuous hold on you through her 'KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT' look let go the moment and you successfully clear that level according to her when you put a smile at your face and node a yes... all the time. And it was an escape.
And when you think that everything in your life from now on would be better, you just miss the fact that you have a boss for whom you work.
With a hell hectic day of two urgent assignments that day, I was blessed to have a senior female employee who was always ready to give me a detailed speech on the fact that I was a girl and I should be safe.
HER LECTURE:
You should take care of yourself, that worker was staring at you.... I think you work well only when boss pays attention on you.... you should not get emotionally attached to boss; he has a flirty nature... take care of what you wear... I am concerned for you, otherwise I wouldn’t have told you all this... you are like my daughter... I am just advising you... you are grown up, but it’s my duty...
I heard everyone. Instead of disagreeing, I ignored every single word that was told to me. I am done hearing you. Now HEAR ME, HEAR ME. YES I AM A GIRL AND I KNOW IT. I KNOW HOW TO BREATHE, HOW TO DRIVE, HOW TO EAT, HOW TO SIT, WHAT TO WEAR, WHERE TO GO AND WITH WHOM, HOW TO BEHAVE AT THE WORK PLACE, HOW TO WORK, HOW TO TAKE CARE OF MYSELF AND HOW TO BE SURE ABOUT MY SAFETY.. AND EVEN IF I DON’T KNOW THESE THINGS, IT IS MY PROBLEM NOT YOURS, ALL I KNOW IS I AM A GIRL AND NOT A MACHINE WHO WILL ACT YOUR WAY JUST BECAUSE YOU WANT ME THAT WAY.
But this time the reason that kept me shut was just being tired of hearing those things and because it was not bothering my work.
Eight at night, in a busy main road, I was driving my scooty when I heard some boys yelling and abusing badly, they were behind me on their bike... Like advised I didn’t turn and kept going. When I heard a female voice loud, I sank in fear, but I gained my courage to turn for another girl and I saw a scooty fallen on the road. The yelling boys were nowhere to be found. There were two girls on the road. One of them told me that those boys were following them from sometime, they were drunk and were asking them to stop and when they didn’t, one of the boys kicked the girl on the back seat and drove off. The girl was not injured physically but mentally, she was not saying anything and was only breathing heavily.
The girls had worn scarf covering their whole face, neck, chest and even stomach, just their eyes were visible. They were fully dressed with jeans and top on. I helped them clean the dust and asked them to complain, to which they said, “Nai baba! Bach gaye na, bas. Marna thode hai complain kar ke”
For the first time in the whole day I regretted something, regretted not turning at the correct time. I could have caught them or at least I could have seen the number plate on their bike. And it also made me think that- you say what you want to say to a person and go off but don’t realise what impact it makes on that person. The way those girls responded, I realised, they were not fainthearted but they too were a victim of hearing things that girls SHOULD NOT DO and were the obedient Indian females- who didn’t complain.

संसर्ग | Sansarg

Name

Email *

Message *

Search