Suddenly the fear resided,
not in the gradual fading of memories
but rather in their singular nature, provided
that when in future they be babbled out in reminiscence
they render not a companionable giggle
but rather a blank stare.
Annoyed, that was how I felt as I came back to my senses. It is awkward how downright crazy you can act in your dreams, and how bizarre-ingly true they can seem as you lie in your own little world from whence you can’t escape, much like Katniss. Later, someone in the same room would tell you how you were trashing your arms around and yelling incoherently (for which I am so thankful because I might have babbled something about a crush or stuff) and there is no height of embarassment but yet a subdued bitter sweet feeling, because I am more agressive and confident to react atleast in artifically created environments like divergents (or who knows maybe I was demanding to be let out of that crazy hell).
Sometimes I do wonder, was it worth 16 years of education to warrant a life long free membership to nightmares about all the exams which I did somehow ace in real life and all the times I was never even late for a single exam or how my prep was spot-on? Is this some evil karma from the heart of some dejected fellow buddy, some kind of a trick created for little miss goody-two shoes or is it my sadistic brain going on in insane circles around all the little things that I actually did manage to somehow pass in my life ?
Hmmm, I wonder …….
I consider myself to have a great understanding of music and can feel the various ebb and flow of it. I have been a reticent amateur beat box-er(ess) for past few years of my life and feel a certain pride in the ability to do so. I have no idea when exactly was the first time that I heard music or how did I took that glorious moment/ turning point in my life, but I do have certain vague memories. I am one of those few people that come in the very very uncommon subset of those who came to know music due to the corrupt company (just kidding).
My siblings are the first people I blame who actually introduced me to music because both of them were music junkies. My sister was more into English music due to the influence of my cousins and my brother was into Indian and Pakistani music. Despite their differences, they would both co-operate with each other and contribute pocket money for buying music cassettes (some audio story cassettes for me if I was lucky enough because I loved them). TDK cassettes were bought so that music could be taken from others and saved and various playlists were created according to choices. The whole process used to take so long and no one was allowed near the recording device near which my sister sat like a much experienced mouse trap, and one move of the lips could cause caustic burns (she always had long nails).
At this point in time, I think Michael Jackson can be said to bring siblings and families all around the world together, to very sociable and bearable courteous behavior or maybe it was just at my home. Both my elder siblings were a huge fan of him and loved his music. My father’s eldest brother was requested again and again for bringing the newest and the best walkman, which was second only to chocolates, so that my siblings could listen to music without judgments and obstructions. My sister got her first true taste of heartache when she lost her much beloved walkman while we were traveling and it slipped through the window and embraced death under the cruel wheels of the fast paced train, with a tiny parting yelp. Many of my favorite songs are the ones from the old tapes of my sister which include:
- Last Christmas by WHAM!
- Careless whisper by George Michael
- You look wonderful tonight by Eric Clapton
- Say a little prayer for you by Aretha Franklin
- One way ticket (which I used to sing as one way ticket to the Zoo ooo ooo o o)
Our first real breakthrough in listening to music without interruptions (since the only music player in the home belonged to my parents so there were always problems) came when my youngest paternal uncle decided to pass on his DVD player to us. It meant hours and hours of uninterrupted music for my siblings.
When I was young, I was clever enough and knew that certain songs were only for certain situations or ambiances. For example it was common knowledge that Sha la la la la la by VengaBoys was only for a rainy day and had to be listened to and sung while walking in the rain. My era of listening to music due to corrupt influence took it downturn when my sister got married. Before getting married, she destroyed huge bags upon bags of cassettes (in which I took part because it was so much fun) because she has to start a new life in a very pious monk like way (do monks give up music?) My brother listened much of the music in washroom while bathing, which tooks hours and hours because it was so therapeutic, a habit he picked up from my paternal aunt’s husband much to my mom’s chagrin.
I was brought back to listening to music in high school whereby it was one of the frequently discussed topics and I listened to few tapes lent to me by my best friend. Later I almost renounced music when I came to college however I discovered some great songs till then, so I can say that I wasn’t totally a follower, Hey there Delilah by Plain white t’s is one of them.
These days my connection is only to natural or binaural sounds from the time I discovered them on soundcloud and they are so peaceful and help as much as ice cream or coffee, leaving you unruffled and in your best zone.
Why did they never feel,
the same pleasure as they did
(when the elder sister was
amongst the standing ovation
proclaimed as a successful engineer)
when they saw her first painted Vase.
Why did they not encourage her
to try new mediums and buy new supplies
Rather she tried to found new ways to stir
any interest in their eyes.
For her “waste of time” career
which they despised.
Today she stands in her gallery
Amidst a huge crowd of admirers
and yet she feels so dispirited inside
Because even though she is
a renowned artist, there is no one
from the family, to receive her tonight.
#PROJECT2014: A POST A MONTH (March) : I want to envision a different person NOW! Cmon get off that couch!
For years and years I have travelled through the various stages of low self-esteem, self doubt and a Himalayan range of insecurities and the weight of all these demons is just impossible and yet I question my sanity when I realize that during some part of my life I start relishing it all.
The first stage is always:
- The weird environment feels threatened by me:
I don’t exactly remember how it came to be, but for some reason I began to be a very exciting target for my other female class fellows in around 3 or 4 grade which continued up to 7grade and was kind of bullied to a huge extend. I remember that for years the PE teacher would complain that I was a loner and that I deliberately tried to be alone and not with my friends (if you can really call them that because I prefer the B word 😛 ) but the problem was that they created situations whereby a could feel left out and ignored. The funniest episode was when we were very young and we used to play “HOUSE” in our muddy playground where we were to build rooms and all that jazz with our hands, on the ground and the one with the best used to win. No one was ready to be in my house and so I was alone and given the rather ugly side of the ground but I never the less created an art piece because soon the other three girls were like, can we switch side? It was evident that it was an attempt to take away what little happiness I created in the ugly part of the playground. Whenever I tried to make other friends I was surrounded by their extra attention and care and I was stupid enough to believe them again and again.
There have been other factors, being the youngest in the family was also a major problem because siblings and cousins seemed to be ignoring me and I was the target of many jokes in the family. For years I had no friends and felt extremely alone and had no one to talk to. Some teachers made it very very very hard to survive and feel excited about my days at school and were there to humiliate me at every possible opportunity they get. The one I still remember is an art teacher saying in front of many teachers and my class fellows that I looked like a servant, when I dressed up on the Independence Day in the dress of one of the provinces and I felt so embarrassed that I couldn’t look anyone in the eye for that whole day.
- I guess there is something wrong with me:
All these circumstances continuing for years and years made me seriously started doubting myself and feeling extremely embarrassed and trying to come up with various reasons to justify this behavior:
- I guess I am too fat
- I guess I don’t look good
- I guess I am too clumsy
- Maybe it’s because I can’t run
- Maybe I am just not likable
- Yes, There is something wrong with me:
I started believing in all these things with a steadfast approach and along came self-pity and constantly a battle to let myself know from inside that I wasn’t good enough.
Every day of my 23 years, I have been carrying an immense burden of these demons: Envy, jealously, extremely low self-esteem, insecurities and doubts. But a few days ago I realized maybe it was not meant to be this way anymore. I was talked to one of my most introvert, reserved and shy friend of mine who is doing Chartered Accountancy and I found a very huge difference in her. I was looking at this whole new different person, who was confident and open, who doesn’t shy away from people and who doesn’t seem to be such an extreme introvert anymore.
(On another note, one of the most brilliant advices she gave me was: Never show the world that you are afraid or it will sunk it jaws in you and you will never know what hit you).
But seeing this different young female, I suddenly felt something stir in my heart. I thought that I want to be like this too.
What I want to see in future:
I want to envision this confident female who cares nothing of how she looks to the world, Ugly or pretty, dark or white, fat or slim.
I want to envision this female, who has the power to change her world.
I want to envision this female who even when people try to push her against walls, find a way to push through it all and separate herself from any nuisance.
I want to see a female who accepts compliments and believe in her heart that she deserves them.
I want to see a female not shying away from people because she thinks that they might not like or approve of how she chooses to present herself and go ahead never the less.
I want to see a female, who values people who love her and find her strength and solace from such people and not get too caught up in negativity.
I want to see a young woman who follow her passions and have aspirations and give hope.
I want to see a female, who gives a new direction, some hope, inspiration and care to the young minds like some of my teachers did for me.
I want to see this new changed female who knows that sometimes people are a certain way and we might not like it or hate them enough to despise and never forgive them, but it will just be a lot of burden to carry forward each day. Sometimes people do things, that they do without giving them any thoughts and it is okay to just let it go.
I want to envision a female who takes great pleasure in little achievements and small things and feel the wonder of new things each day. To believe that happiness and good things will come and that no one has a perfect life. We all are fighting our own demons and they might not be visible to everyone.
Finally that you are a beautiful person, if you are humble, kind without ulterior motives, caring, trustworthy, sincere and understanding. Beauty should never be defined by your body, face, complexion or other outer traits that you have no control over and which would just deplete over time whatever you may do.
AND LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL AND SO ARE YOU ALL!! HAVE A GOOD DAY – Zee 😀
My earliest memories of dancing…Ah!
I remember my cousins and sister were preparing for my eldest cousin’s (on maternal side of the family) wedding and I got really excited about all the music and steps that they were choreographing for the pre-wedding ceremony of Mehndi. I wanted to be a part of it, but since I was around 10 to 12 years younger to all those big girls, I was thoroughly ignored as a young kid often is. But I was watching, and rehearsing all of those steps in my mind, practically all the time. I was obsessed with that particular dance and those different steps like moving in circles, changing places with partners etc. All this time, while they were busy rehearsing, I was busy planning how could I get a chance at some spotlight so I could show the world I was way better dancer. My chance came when my cousin came home after the wedding day, along with her husband, as is the custom in our family, when the bride comes to visit the family (this is also an innocent pretext to get some money and blessings). Everyone was sitting in the spacious sitting room and my mind was busy in finding a place empty enough where I could get ample space to dance. Somehow, my memory fails me in remembering how, I got my big chance and I twirled and whirled as if my life depended on it. When the song finally ended, I just didn’t want to stop at all, because the feeling of being in middle of all that attention and dancing with such perfection had some addiction to it. As my mind was spinning from all that twirling, I was barely able to get the expressions of the family members but when it all came in focus everyone was laughing like crazy and there was some sort of standing ovation thing going on as well. At that moment in time, I felt like the most happiest and content person in life, and I got my first shot at fame and I felt a little drunk with all that attention to be honest.
I remember doing the same dance in another wedding couple of years later, which was formally the end of my wedding dancer career, but I remember how happy dancing made me and what fun it was, and when the song used to end, I felt like the stereo system has committed some great offense against me. I remember getting into a serious altercation (which later became an interesting party joke on my behalf) that the song should be played again because the first time around, someone has stopped it before my last great step. That song is still in my memory and I chuckle at that little-girl memory of dancing and how confident I was at that time to dance in front of anyone and everyone and how much it meant to me. If asked to dance any of these days publicly, I would run away in another direction altogether and return only and when the ceremony is over.
P.S. : Between me, and my two legs, I managed to dance a dance which was originally choreographed for four people, if I say so myself 😀 (Boasting much?)