Life out of a suitcase - Part II

It has been a while since I actually penned down something. A lot has changed ever since my last blog (Life out of a suitcase). Writing, to me, was everything about sharing my fears, inhibitions, and perspectives. It was a channel to my feelings. Some understood some did not. There hasn’t been a particular reason that I can point out for my sabbatical from doing something that gives me innate joy. However, things have changed and some that I may not even be happy about.

Nevertheless, here I am, back to doing what I feel I was not extremely poor at. Does it really matter even if I was? Come to think of it, one of the many reasons I never felt the need to write was because I found a human diary. Recently when I re-visited my previous blog is when I found the connection. There is a friend, a close friend (co-blogger), whom I made a promise. Amongst our various discussions about food, photography, traveling and blogging, I mentioned to him that I write about people and life experiences, frustrated of his constant bullying (yes, he can be trouble), I passed a comment that I would probably need a full page blog to describe him. I made a promise to write about him before the end of 2018. (Yes, I know it's 2019). Little did I know, I probably need a lifetime to do so.

That’s the irony, this close friend (now my husband), my human diary, now makes me want to complete my ‘Life of a suitcase’. While I was trying to find a house, (literally, I hate shifting), I found a ‘home’. Am I living out of a suitcase, still? Probably. Do I feel like I belong somewhere, Definitely! I started writing the first blog wondering if Canada would ever be home and my journey towards trying to find and build one. Here, I am, nearly two years later, convinced, that home is not a place, it is a person, a feeling and an emotion.

I know you’re wondering, what is the point of this blog? Is it about my sabbatical, my life in Canada or this person I call home? It is actually about the unpredictability of life and the weird connection and sequence of events in my life. (Also, a little bit about keeping my promise)

Who would have thought that I would fall in love with a person who ‘bro-zoned’ me! For people who know me even a little bit, know that I was the most Anti-marriage person. From that to being one of the first people amongst my close circuit to tie the knot, it has been quite a journey in itself. That is the unpredictability of life. You not only do not have control of factors external to you, but you also do not have control of who you become. Situations, circumstances, and life changes you. One of the most important people in my life, the one who made me believe in the institution of marriage, wasn’t there to walk me down the aisle. A dream every girl, even an emotionally non-existent girl deep down her heart has. That has been my biggest takeaway from the past year or so.

Life is unpredictable, you have this one second you’re living right now to do what makes you happy. So why stop yourself? Why restrict yourself to numbers and barriers society set for you. People often say you have one life, live it to the fullest. No, you die only once, you live every day. So stop living towards the feeling that everyone has to die one day, you’re killing yourself a little every day by stopping yourself from being who you truly are.

My journey from living a life out of a suitcase to finding my pieces in another person to complete the puzzle of my life and start a new one, it has been a rollercoaster. Am I any less ambitious than I used to be? 200%, NO. People think they need to achieve everything before a certain time and then ‘settle down’ later. What really is this ‘settle down’? I have a person who believes in my dreams and capabilities far more than I do myself. How can the person who understands my over-obsessive need to excel at everything I do, ever be the one who makes me ‘compromise’ on my career? Being married, having a high paying job or an elite house doesn’t mean you settled down. You settle down when you stop yourself from growing and living. A man or anybody for the matter of fact, does not have the ability to stop you. So refrain from blaming the external factors.

If you still don’t believe me, I’d say don’t. Because if someone had said this to the old me, I would ask them to be happy in their bubble and leave me alone (Yes, I was pretty defensive of my point of views).

All I have to say is, don’t let your life be ruled by standards of what society has set for you. You don’t have to have a million dollars before you die or a mansion before you raise kids or be the CEO of the company before you get married or graduate at the age of 21. Do what makes you happy. Do something that makes you feel alive every day. I learned this the hard way, by losing the most important man in my life and finding the other most important man in my life.

That’s my version of Life out of a suitcase 2.0. Along with my overflowing suitcase that was always filled with dreams, aspirations, ambitions and my over-enthusiasm; I decided to make a ‘little space’ in my suitcase for love. Trust me, it hasn’t taken away space from my ‘big dreams’; it has only made them stronger and my smile a lot wider.

To the person who makes me laugh a little louder and love a little harder ♥️ 

Life out of a suitcase

I have been pondering on this caption for a while now. Every time I thought I should put my thoughts into words, I felt I should wait for an appropriate time. Maybe in a few months, I will have more value, more words to add. I started off with this thought in January 2017, its been 9 months ever since, waiting for my experiences, achievements to do justice to my caption. However, it was yesterday that I realized like the apple hitting Adam that what could be more satisfying for my Canadian journey than being able to share my experience about people? No amount of achievements, accolades, rough patches, travel diaries can replace the joy of being able to call a place and people your ‘family’.

As I walked down the Mumbai international airport leaving my sister at the domestic airport last year, I had no idea what this journey would have in store for me. (Don’t get me wrong, my journey isn’t over just yet). As I set my foot to create my own dreams into an unknown ‘cold’ land, I was greeted and welcomed by the warmest people. My first experience was definitely right in this land of maple. A home away from home, my family away from family, Thank you chachu and chachi. From re-living my childhood with my siblings to re-cherishing my own toddler tales with uncle, Canada already felt like it was home.

As I moved on to try my attempt at being an independent grown-up, I failed at many stations and succeeded at some. At the end of the time, the only thing I am left with is not my graduating certificate but with memories, experiences and most importantly people who I can call ‘mine’. Some relations hit off in the beginning and only a few stood the test of time. Everything in life though comes with a lesson in disguise, it is about when you identify this disguise and learn from it.

The two suitcases I packed from home were not just filled with clothes and essentials, they were filled with zeal, enthusiasm, and excitement to do something big in life. It all ends only to find your joys in the smaller moments of life. The smaller moments that are left in your circle of friendships. They are found in your friends jokes- ‘BJ’s’ (Balaji). The moments are treasured in the never-ending assignments and binge stress eating poutines (Modi) with people fighting over what music to play while we crack the stupid assignments (Sartaj and Anand). The smaller joys of a friend who lives minutes away but comes with food just to make you smile (Ankita). The moments that were left in the random 3 am cravings and coffee walks (Nancy). P.S. you still remain the only one who can drag me out of bed and the only one who can snap me out of over-thinking. You don’t need someone who knows you in and out, you only need someone to sometimes read your mind (Jay) or someone to show you that life isn’t all that stressful (Joy). It is not about if you got your desired grades, it's about who believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself (Anand). It is not about dreaming and watching big Ted talks but who you can simply sit and have an aimless but intense conversation with (Vaibhav). Despite all that happens, you always need someone to remind you of your city and re-iterate your love for cricket and wherever you go in the world you will find those souls (Akshay and Pratik Bhaiya).

Between clicking blurry pictures and listening to each other's hazy dreams, we all grew up in our own little way. As time passed by, we only learned the difference between when to be the leaning shoulder and when independent enough to stand up straight. As I read the finer things in life, the more I started appreciating the aimless and random laughter and mid-night conversations. As I understood the ugly truth of being alone in a land miles away from home, I appreciated the beauty of having two faithful friends.

So, life is not about the million-dollar house you build in future, it will always lie locked somewhere in the pictures on the hard drive of your laptop. When we grow old, joy may not be in the 5-star luxury of your vacation home but it will definitely be in the pondering smile that would form on your face reminiscing those pictures. As I celebrate my first Thanksgiving, it's about reflecting and thanking the few noble evil souls who would trouble you to no end but still stand up against the world for you. Thank you, guys, for making my heart believe that Canada can be home because home is where the heart is. 

x

Let me write my own fairy tale

Finding my horizon 

I have always wanted to write on ‘feminism’ but the word is so misconstrued in our times that my feelings on the subject have always been bottled up and never let out. In the newest and most ‘popular’ definition of the word; if asked, I am not an advocate of feminism. I thought I used to be but not anymore.  I always wondered I would be ‘judged’ for my opinions. But that’s when I realized, how am I any different from the people I am writing/criticizing/whining about if I am myself scared to voice my opinion? Am I not a hypocrite? So, I finally decided to put it across.

The question that I have always wanted to ask is not about my color, my waist size, my weight or my ‘sanctity’ of being a girl. The question I always ask is why is all of the above portrayed in our tales? The fault lies not in a guy demanding a ‘fair’ looking bride. The fault probably lies in the matrimonial advertisements making even a darker tone girl light with makeup because society won’t accept that a brown girl can be on the cover. It lies on the front page of the GQ magazine that always has men with abs and never with flabs.

When the youth of a country can watch/listen and talk confidently about body shaming at talk shows but still refuse to date/marry a person based on the ulterior aesthetics, you know something is terribly wrong. Why does my tale have to have my prince charming coming on a white horse? Why can’t I be respected for wanting to ride my own horse? Is it quintessential for a girls’ existence to be reiterated with the presence of a man or vice versa?

In our stereotypical way, I am not going to be an ‘ideal’ girl anymore because I have the audacity to ‘ask’ these questions. Well, because that’s again a characteristic a girl ‘should’ have; keeping her mouth shut. Not taking away anything from the men in our society; even they do have to go through the stereotypes, sometimes a little less or sometimes a little more. I am not a woman’s’ activist here, I am one of equality and freedom.

All I am asking is to be free to write my own story without the fear of having to be judged by the length of my skirt or the guts to do something someone else doesn’t want to do. When I look at the water and see the horizon while others adore the beauty of the waves, is that because I am wrong or is that because my perspective is different from yours? While you want to sit around in a group of 20 looking at the same fishes and waves, I want to find my horizon. If my father didn’t respect my personality more than my grades and my mother didn’t respect my education more than my beauty, I would probably be in the herd finding the fishes myself.

Feminism does not lie in giving me the reserved seat in the bus, it lies in giving me the confidence to stand on my own feet. Feminism does not mean a candle march on India Gate for Nirbhaya, it also means appreciating the male friend who stood up for her. As long as we suppress and blame the men for our situation that long we are from getting our freedom. Yes, maybe the ones that deserve the appreciation and trust are few in comparison to the majority; but as long as we depend on someone else to protect us, that far we are from being equal. You won’t get your rights by snatching someone’s rights. You both must be given them.

By the end of every article I write, I always end up questioning myself, if I am too idealistic and optimistic? But today as I write this, I realized that the society never gave me the freedom to paint my own picture and that is why when I attempt to hold the pencil, I question myself. Why do we have to fight to hold the reins of our lives in our own hand?

I am a fair brown (get the sarcasm, if you can) Indian girl who is miles away from her homeland trying to breathe free and live her dreams. So, however far I have come and how much further I go from here shall be decided not by what ‘people say’ but where and how far I want to go.

I never really believed in fairy tales but if I ever do I want to believe in my own.

All I am asking is “Can I just write my own fairy tale”?

Can I choose my hero?

We have all grown up in an environment where we are taught that the hero is always right and the villain is always wrong. An evidence of this theory is our movies portraying the good man as a protagonist and the bad man as the antagonist. Of course in recent times we have seen a slight change where the bad guys are playing lead characters in our cinema but this portrayal is still far from majority. Have we ever thought why this trend? Is it quintessential to prove somebody is good by showing the other in bad light? Some may argue what is wrong with this theory, you’re absolutely right; my theory may not necessarily be correct but it most definitely is not baseless.

What steered my thoughts finds its base way back in mythology. Being somebody who has a keen interest on the subject; I have always tried to look for more knowledge and wanted to explore stories that are often not told. We burn effigies of Ravan and worship Ram but what was so wrong with that man? He had his flaws, nobody is perfect. Born in an era which was near perfect (Treta Yug), he was definitely a mismatch. Do not mistake me to be one of those radical thought-provoking females who would never find the good in Ram, NO, I am not one of the pseudo feminist. I have always believed that nobody knows if mythology is real and that is not my place to judge but one must never stop themselves from learning from whichever means available. For convenience of all, let’s consider Ramayan and Mahabharat as fiction tales written for a purpose to teach.

With this background, getting back to my theory. We have always considered Arjun as the hero, the savior and ace warrior. To prove that Arjun was the best, we often do injustice to another lesser known character; Karn. This drove my inquisitive mind to read about this unsung hero. While I was at this uphill task, I realized that to make Karn the protagonist of their tale, story-tellers tried finding flaws in Arjun’s character. Because the Mahabharat cannot be re-written (We live in a country where anything said; personal or professional has a counter response to it and there will always be somebody whose ‘sentiments’ you hurt), Arjun could not be portrayed as ‘wrong’ but the elements of trying to make him the antagonist still persisted in the stories of Karn. Why so?  Couldn’t the two characters co-exist? Can’t I have two heroes with different set of aesthetics I like? I can always pick up what is right of either of their characters and learn from both of their culpabilities. Why doesn’t my society give me the liberty to decide for myself who is my hero?

Yes, I am essentially challenging our bases of story-telling. After all, all stories, fiction or non-fiction, classics or masala movies are based on the simple thread of protagonist and antagonism. The point I am trying to put forward is simple. I do not expect too much from commercial cinema apart from mere entertainment but I principally want to change the way we approach these tales. Going by the assumption that they were written to teach, would my learning impact be any less from the great Mahabarat if I was shown two sides of the story rather than being brutal towards a particular character. Maybe yes, I wouldn’t love Arjun if I didn’t hate Karn or Duryodhan. So does my inability to see the other side prove that the other side does not exist? Stories written to show us either side are an evidence to our narrow-minded thinking. I am talking about expanding this very thought process. It is not necessary for you to agree with me, changing is far-fetched. All I am asking is to put aside what you already know and give it a thought. It did take some time for me to do too. While I read, heard and saw tales with Karn as the ‘protagonist’; my typical Indian brain tuned me to dislike it. The thought of Arjun being treated with lesser importance was disturbing my head. Later did I realize that the fault lies not in me but it lies in the way I was told the story. Thankfully, I have parents who never passed judgements, so my childhood didn’t really consist of my father or mother’s (my sister was least interested) stories with tall praises for Ram or Krishna or Arjun or Karn, nor did it consists of hatred for Ravan or Duryodhan. Instead, what I received was a gift of books and 49 CDs of the Mahabharat. Which we religiously followed, not because we are religious people but because they wanted me to have an eye of my own and not the story-teller.

So, my readers, stories are not just about knowing what the author or teller is telling you. It is about knowing and discovering what lies beyond it. Don’t let the writer (even me) tell you what you must follow. Don’t obsess over the hero because he’s the protagonist, obsess because he’s your hero. Don’t hate the villain because he’s the antagonist, learn because he made mistakes for you to not repeat. So the question I ask and want you to ponder upon is, "Can I choose my hero?"

A childhood dream

With all the vices and cold vibes alike

Is there something that makes you believe it is right? 

Like the morning sunshine and glowing rainbow,

She makes you feel alive

With all the negativity and sorrows,

Is there something that makes you think otherwise?

Like the first shower of the season,

She makes you feel alright.

With all the bitter sweet souls and back biting creatures,

Is there something that makes you believe in the right?

Like the never dying essence of love,

She makes you feel all bright.

My childhood dream it was

To be like her,

To dress like her,

A childhood dream it was.

My childhood dream it was

To love her like no one ever can

To spread magic like she did

A childhood dream it was.

As I live the childhood dream,

MY childhood dream;

She walks the dream with me,

Inspiring, supporting, loving and spreading magic.

As I live my childhood dream,

Finding the positive in every negative,

The light in the darkness,

The sweet in the sour.

She makes me ween,

A believable existing angel

That’s what she is,

My childhood dream she is.

Because she adds the music to my life that I can dance to; a lady who defines love, beauty, commitment and never dying love for the one's she cares for. 

A dedication to the spirit of living life the way she does, a mere associated in your life brings me pride of having known and loved a human like you. 

Happy Birthday to the magic in my dreams, the strength in my vision and the life in the years. :)

A rainbow worth walking

To the belief,

To the strength of the heart

My heart sings a song

While walking in the rain.

To the overcast shadows,

To the ghosts of the imaginings

My weakness makes me strong

While playing in the rain.

To the never dying sunlight

To the magnanimity of the dreams

My future beckons me

While being mesmerized in the rain

To the past, present and future

To the boulevard of magical visions

My feet dance to the tunes to life

While dancing in the rain

Rain is only but a season

A reason more than season.

Rain is only but an expression

An action more than expression.

Life is only but a celebration

A meaning more than celebration

Life is only but a journey

A lesson more than journey.

Rain and Life are only but words

Thoughts more than words.

Walking in the rain and life are only but options

Dancing more than walking.

Just rambling in the rain, as the droplets touch my heart

They shout out loud,

Life is only but a rainbow,

A rainbow more than sunshine;

Life is only but a rainbow,

A rainbow more than rain;

Life is only but a rainbow,

A rainbow worth walking

Because inspiration lies no where else but looking for it within. 

Thank you, Viji Subramaniam Ma'am for the encouragement and belief you showed. 

Path of life

The uncut version of life's aesthetics through my lens and words 

Life is a journey and a beautiful one indeed. People walk into your life to decorate this path of life. Some walk out, but the path continuous. With all its twists and turns beautifying the path. Have we ever looked at the hurdles as a beautification? I am sure most of us haven’t. It is a thought worth a mention, would this road have looked so aesthetic without its curves and bends? In my opinion the answer is no. That is exactly the essence of life; every mistake, every hurdle and every difficulty has a second side, it artistically decorates our life in a way which is often unknown to us.

I walked through a lot of stories. Met a lot of people. Walking on this path of life reminds me of a girl, a friend, a ‘beautiful’ person who celebrates her birthday today. The reason I choose to describe her away from the conventional beautiful people series is because we’ve walked so many ‘paths’ together which have had their shares of twist and turns. Some intentionally, some unintentionally. Every budding friendship starts from being strangers, so what is so special about this one? Having being partners in marketing crime for a crime I didn’t want to commit to a crime she so strongly felt about to this day of being the ‘only’ one left on the Mumbai journey. She has been a testimony to loving what I hate and hating what I love. Like Watson in Sherlock she is the partner to the madness and probably the sole one who testifies the madness to be beneficial for saving the world. My Watson in reality with the killer looks of “Did you just do/say that?” (Imagine a zillion question marks), she is probably the most underappreciated friend. The ‘nth’ common ‘legacies’ we wish to carry on; whether it was the ‘BB’s bacchas’, ‘magi-k’, ‘SANS’, dealing with ‘cheesiness’ or ‘D plans’ it all boils down to you being the one for me and me being the one for you, isn’t it? (Okay, delete that from your head, I know you hate drama). My Mumbai partner, I’d probably fail at describing how I would feel if you move to another city/country. I am not mainstream, people often give credit to those who get their insane sides out, but I give you credit for bringing some sanity to the insanity of Sanskriti.

This one is to your goal in life of trying to get me scared once before a paper and my goal of making you cry once for someone/something. (Mind you, I think we both are failing at achieving these). What counts irrespective of whether we fail or succeed at these goals or the actual life goals, what does not change is the people involved on this path of life.

Until you leave your accent and talk fluently in hindi, I have your back and you have mine.

Happy Birthday, Angreezan J Have a great one.