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”?