Anicca

 The light is what guides you home, the warmth is what keeps you there. - Ellie Rodriguez

A messy hair bun, a laptop, an overused notepad, a mobile with a Joker back cover, and a blue pen, this has been my life for the last 3 years. No matter where I am, these treasures never leave me to take a hard day alone or to smile with me on the sunny ones.

I am sitting on my bed, thinking about squeezing in some workout (well, thinking about it for the last 5 years, still haven’t started) while a familiar face is smiling at me. Mr. Khan (The King Khan), has been there on my wardrobe for as long as I could remember, and he has never failed to make me feel good about myself, even on those days, when I can’t even get out of bed.

This bed, this wardrobe with Shahrukh pic on it, used to be my home, not my room, but home. However, last few years, there is a thought in the back of my mind, hiding in the dark corner, peeping from time to time.

And finally decided to address it head-on.

Where is my Home?

Since I could remember, the room, I had in our old, dampy, half-broken railways quarter was my world. I had an old radio. I used to listen to Radio-Mirchi nonstop on it. My favorite show was when they used to play old Hindi songs (I forgot the show's name). I loved that tiny corner beside the radio, listening to songs, dreaming of dreams, and hoping for a place of my own to call HOME.

That dampy room was the witness to all my firsts, endless chatter with friends, my first journaling, first love, first heartbreak, my exams, sleepless night, and on and on.

And then the inevitable came, I left my hometown; Kolkata, to pursue my MBA in Hyderabad. I stayed in college hostels, and working women’s hostels, and shared a flat with roommates. But never, ever, I felt at home.

Then I got married, and rented beautiful flats for living, still, what was the thing missing…I still couldn’t figure it out. It’s like…

I have been to the unknown and felt most lost when I reached home.

No matter how comfy the bed is, and how familiar the faces were, I was not home. I have taken deep dives into the darkest corners of my mind, yet could never find an answer to the ever-haunting question…where is home?

I am still looking for my home, and I have no idea….

what is it or where is it or never the less who it is?

Over the years I have realized, my home was that corner beside the old shabby radio, my home was the salty torn bedsheet, the picture of Shahrukh.

What I have been looking for, for the last 13 years is not an address, but rather a warm cozy hug from you (Who are you?) to drench my soul with love.

The teenage girl, in that homey little corner, with stars and moon in her eyes listening to “yeh tera ghar, yeh mera ghar”, will not stop, until she finds her home, no matter where it is or who it is.  

“I am homesick for a place I am not sure ever exists. One where my heart is full. And my soul is understood. I am homesick for you my LOVE”

As the sobs wreaking through her body subsided, the tears in her eyes finally dried up. Brishti closed her puffed and stingy eyes as she tried to find a comfortable position on the cold, hard bed she had been curled up on for the last couple of hours. Her mind drifted off to those early days of her college life when she had spent an inordinate amount of time noticing and taking in everything he would do.

At the beginning he was just a part of her new group of friends at college. He was no different in her eyes from the other boys in the group or in the college for that matter. It was his unparalleled sense of humour that had caught her attention at first. He could take as much as he could dish out. Then came bunking classes, playing pranks and taking long walks into the natural beauty of the hills, Then she had unknowingly started to pay attention to his likes and dislikes in everything ranging from music to food. She started noticing how he was always there to bail his friends out of trouble, how he would be there to support his friends when they needed someone to talk to or just someone to sit quietly with. He would scramble down the dangerous slopes just to pick a flower that someone liked with the same enthusiasm as he would spend hours cooped up in a room to help someone understand the latest assignment from class.

Even today, she could not point out the exact moment when she had fallen in love with Akash. But she knew that it had to be at some point before she had divulged her darkest secrets to him one night over the phone. Instead of saying how disgusted he was of her, he had told her of his fears. They had both cried in the privacy of their rooms, miles apart but connected by modern technology. She wasn't sure whether they had cried because of their personal fears or for the pain of the other. All she knew that she had felt both light and heavy in her heart at the same time. The fact that her secrets had not driven him away from her had made her heart feel lighter than it had been in years. Yet there was also a new ache -- for her dear friend. Something had changed between them that night.

Now she could not help but wonder if that was also the moment she had turned blind to everything else that should have made her uncomfortable.

Over the next couple of years they had been happy like none other in this world. They had hardly ever fought and their love had only seemed to grow. They weathered through the rough patches in their individual lives together. They even survived when times demanded physical distance of hundreds of miles between them. They celebrated their little triumphs and assured each other that time would only increase and mature their love for each other. After all they would always be friends first in their hearts. Their happiness had known no bounds and the people around them started to brand them as the 'Sweetest' or the 'Perfect' Couple. She remembered having so much faith and trust in him that she had fought for him when time had demanded, even against her dearest ones. She remembered standing up for him when somebody showed less faith in him. She could still remember experiencing that giddy feeling, the butterflies in her stomach and the out of body experiences that she had only read about in books before.

She had heard the old saying that "Love is blind and Marriage is the eye opener" about a million times before and had always taken it as a joke. But something happened even before her marriage that made her wonder if it was a joke at all. For her all it had taken was both the families getting involved and them getting engaged. On one of the most important days of her life, when she had needed his support the most, he had let her down by not sparing even a thought about her. After knowing everything about her and her life, he had left her standing alone, to fend for herself when she was most vulnerable. She did not know how she had managed to smile and go about performing her duties as expected from her back then, but finding herself alone had made her stop and take a look around. That was when she had realized how blind she had been. The man who had promised to be her friend for life had never really kept his word. Her love for him had made her blind to all the instances he had invaded her life and had let her down in the past. For the first time she had stopped to take stock of all the times she had given into him because of her blind need to give him and to make him happy.

Still it had been too late for her. She did not want to create a scandal by breaking off her engagement. She could handle the heat and the pointing fingers, but she was afraid of the hurt it would cause her mother. A mother who had given up so much for her, who had truly been her true friend and the one person she had spent so much time convincing that he was the one for her. She could not bring herself to do the one thing that would free her from a lot of suffering but would shatter her mother's dreams, hurt her and leave her only caretaker to face the aftermath of the scandal. She had then talked herself into continuing the relationship, convincing herself that it was the right thing to do - at least for the sake of her mother.

Once reality broke through the illusion of her perfect love, she thought that she was ready to face the consequences of her follies. Surely now that she knew what to expect and what not to expect, she couldn't possibly be disappointed any further. But as if her realizing the truth was what he had been waiting for, his new promises increased as much as his deception. Every time she built a wall around her, he stripped her out her defenses even further. And for the last couple of months, it had come down to maintaining a perfect facade as much for the sake of peace at home as much for the outsiders. She tried her best to take care of her duties and responsibilities to the best of her capabilities and still take that extra step to take care of his needs, hoping that someday he would return her love with something more than empty words and promises. But every time she had been the first and only one to fall for the facade and set Herself up for more disappointments and heartaches.

After being together for over a decade, having her heart broken and trampled on she still tried to work it out with him. No matter what the latest reason she had come up with and convinced herself of, deep down she knew that she still loved him. No matter how many times she tried to explain her heart that she should hate him for putting her through hell, she knew that she still loved him. She did not know how or why, but she knew that she would always love him.

Finally feeling comfortable, Brishti promised herself for what seemed to be the hundredth time, that this would be the last time she would cry herself to sleep over him and let her tired body and mind succumb to sleep in the spare bedroom of their flat. Her last conscious thought was that her love for Akash was something like Nicotine Addiction. Once you got addicted, your body and mind craved for it. And even though you knew that it is harmful for you, it was damn hard to give up.

Source: Candy Cigarette by Sally Mann (Conscientious)

I know that look… I know that you are judging me right at this moment. See, if I care… Once upon a time, I would have cared but now I don’t. Not any more.

I was once like you – pure and innocent.  But I did not have a childhood like yours. Nor did I have the choices that you did. My life has been different from the very beginning. Why you ask? I do not know as I do not see any difference between you and me. I see the same heart and the same blood in both of us. We breathe in the same air and walk on the same earth. The same things hurt us and the same things bring us joy. Yet, my life is different from yours. Why you ask? Truthfully, I do not know.

People tell me it is because I dared to be born as a girl child in a family that craved only for a son. I was just a mistake conceived in a flurry of passion and regretted from the moment of my birth. No one cared that my sex was not my choice. No one cared that at I had the same need for attention and affection. No one cared that I can work just as hard and love even more. My younger brother was nourished and cherished, while I learnt to live on one meal a day – sometimes on even less. I was reminded every day that he was strong while I was weak. That my brother would grow up, earn and look after my parents while I would grow up and would need to be married off at the cost of a heavy dowry. I would always drain their blood and money. When my family could not afford the basic necessities, they sold off their only liability, me, in exchange for a meagre amount of cash that would keep their hunger at bay for a month. My cries and pleas did not move my parents. I was just a burden they were getting rid of.

From the age of six, I have been trained in every way possible to be successful at my trade. After all, I had to work off my family’s debt. I was only a little girl – fighting back wasn't an option. So, I learned the tricks and did my job even though it made me sick and hurt my insides. While numerous men enjoyed my flesh and ravaged my body, it did not matter if I wanted it or liked it or hated it – it was my job and I had to do it. I know you think that girls like me are in this business because it is an easy way to earn money or because it is pleasurable. But let me assure you that being beaten, whipped, tortured or used as an ashtray just to satisfy some sadistic need is neither a short cut nor is it pleasurable. Unlike you, I was not taught not to smoke or drink; instead it became my only escape. I felt violated, I felt trapped and I felt choked in my life but no one cared. Once again, my pleas for help fell on to deaf ears – I was yet to justify my existence.

It took me some time but I finally realized something… It doesn't matter whether anyone cared or not because no one can see beyond my flesh. You cannot see the pain in my eyes or the hurt in my heart or the broken dreams. It does not matter to you that I did not have the childhood I deserved or the love and affection that was my birth right. I do not deserve the prejudice you have against me and I do deserve the same respect as you. I warrant the same chance at happiness and the same encouragement to chase my dreams.

Did you ever stop to wonder who I am?

I am little girl with an old soul. My experiences have aged me far more than my years on this earth. I am a woman who is beyond any care in the world. After years of crying and begging, I know not to expect warmth or understanding or even a spare thought. So, why should I care for those who have always turned their backs and blind eyes away from me? I am a gentle spirit who has been pushed around for far too long. I am done being treated as a burden or a liability. I am tired of justifying my existence with every breath I take. I am just another human being who has been on the edge and back. My dreams and desires have been broken so many times, yet my soul and spirit survives.

I am the uncensored reflection of most women you know. Some trade in their freedom and some trade in their emotions. Some do it voluntarily and some do it involuntarily. Some do it in the name of love, some in the name of marriage and some do it in the name of family. All those little things that you take for granted from them, all those little compromises you expect them to make – brings her a step closer to what I unabashedly am. Every time you think she is weak, every time you try to suppress her, every time you take her choices away – you make her a little more like me. Crush her innocence, crush her dreams, crush her aspirations – she just gets a step closer to where I am.

I know that look… I know that you are judging me right at this moment. See, if I care… Once upon a time, I would have cared but now I don’t. Not any more. 

So, judge me all you want – for my actions and for the choices You think I have made. It does not matter because you are merely judging the piece of flesh that you see.