The pee collector!

     I am an ordinary person who has made many million mistakes…so far.  My earliest memory of a mistake was collecting my pee in a mug only to  pour  it out after wondering about the yellow tinge of it. Gross? Yeah…but what can I say, I was a curious child.

     I stole coins from my piggy bank. It was the love of ice cream that made me commit the “crime.”  I  would climb up sneakily to the loft, an “unreachable” place where my mom kept it. It was a small tin box  with  a slot on the lid (dad’s work, “Reuse” in the 80’s) When the thought of ice cream crept into my mind in the hot days of summer I climbed upon the door and would take as much as I needed.
 
No guilt!
   
     I was punished a lot in school  for not doing home work and for failing in almost all subjects. I wondered why the grown ups were so cruel.  What they perceived as “me” was not “me” to me. I was clueless of their ways, but I had me! 
    
     Later years , it all continued… my mistakes.  Still no guilt. 
    
     On one rainy night I found two baby bats on the steps to our terrace. I took them and fed them milk. There was no wikihow then. I took a wild guess and gave them drops of milk which they very happily licked. I was glad I found them. A little proud too as I rescued them while my sisters were scared to even look at them. After a few hours I left them in a flower pot on the terrace hoping their mom would pick them up from there. The bats that were flying by unusually close that night made me do it.  
     The next day when I went up I saw the babies dead. I had left them in the cold night. It was my mistake that they were dead. GUILT! 
     After killing the two baby bats, it was a two day old puppy that I stepped on in the dark. GUILT! 
    
     Then the three squirrel babies that recently died on my watch. GUILT! 

     Is it possible to love myself?  

     We change as we age. As we grow we become very hard on ourselves. The support we got from ourselves when we were kids become unavailable. We begin to see what the world sees of us. I was me but every mistake began to haunt me.  And how can one live without making any mistakes? 

Self love is vital to  happiness…to survival. 

Sometimes  I  need to be the girl I was when I stole the money for ice cream. I remembered how easy it was for me to forgive myself then. 
She taught me to love “me” unconditionally.

I am the only one who can free myself from guilt and that is the  most precious lesson growing up has taught me. 

Puppy Love

My landlady is a  very kind and thoughtful woman. One of the big reasons for me to choose this house to rent is her. The first day I went to check out the house I saw two mongrel puppies, Cherry and Amigo. Later she told me that she found them on the road and didn’t have the heart to leave them there. She took them with her and they were loved by her and the teenagers of the family. They grew up happily, they grew up fast.  

Country bred puppies with no training whatsoever, results in mayhem. The dogs were let out and they brought back trash that were dumped on the roadside.  Both the dogs got huge and one of them, cherry, was very unmanageable.  The house has enough open yard for the dogs to move free, so I asked them to keep the gate closed and avoid letting the dogs out on the street. I am a dog person, but I dint like it when cherry showed its love by jumping on to me. They stink as they stayed on the road most times. One day as I was parking my two wheeler when we got home , cherry pushed down my daughter and the backside of her leg was burnt by the silencer. The whole neighborhood heard her scream in pain.  

 Amigo was no trouble, it ate garbage and was quiet, and so that was let into their house while cherry was driven out.  Cherry was taken to a far off place and was dumped there.  Most dogs end up like this as the owners fall out of love with them.  But Cherry  came back after a month and a half. Stupid faithful dog!  when  Amigo died because of snake bite, they felt very bad that it was not Cherry.  Cherry became a lot quieter after its return.  It got pregnant and gave birth to a litter of beautiful puppies. This time they kept a male puppy and the rest were given for adoption, a smart decision.   

I talk with the mother or the daughter of the family as they are nice. The house owner is a very rude moron.  I told the girl that keeping the male puppy was not a good idea as there was Cherry.  But it was the dad’s decision she said.  It was nice to see cherry and the puppy playing with each other happily.  That changed soon. Baby’s diapers became the new thing to play with by the stray dogs of the neighborhood.  Some “super smart” humans kept throwing the used diapers on the road and the “stupid” dogs tore them and threw them all over the street.  There are like seven stray dogs in the area, including Cherry and the puppy. But the puppy was punished.  

An angered “smart” lady resident  hit the puppy with a cane. It didn’t end there. The house owner began to tie the puppy up. It cried and moaned but “it was for its own safety.” The diaper incident continued to take place though.  And the puppy stopped fighting and accepted the chain. It made me very sad to look at the puppy chained.  Every time it cried  because of rain or cold I rang up the lady, and the puppy was taken and chained upstairs where they live.  

Everyday I leave for work looking at the puppy that gave me a sad face.  The spirit of it was crushed already. It was the saddest puppy I ever saw. It peed,  pooped and ate at the same place. Another “smart” thing about humans is how they try to change nature. Many dogs are fed rice with little or no milk.  

We destroy nature in so many ways!     

Yesterday I was surprised to see the puppy not chained. But it was at the place where it was tied down. I thought to myself that may be it was “institutionalized” Morgon Freeman’s theory in The Shawshank Redemption.  This morning I heard it moaning and found it lying in its own pee.  It was dying. I spent some time with it telling it that it was okay to die. I could not control my tears as the lifeless puppy reminded me how  happy it was once playing with its mom! I rang up the landlady and told her that it’s better if one of the kids be with the dying  puppy. No one came down. The puppy died, and the “father” of the family came down, dug a hole in the front yard and buried the puppy.  The mean cruel things we do to others!  

Are humans capable of  love? Do we know what love is?  

This is the same pattern I find when we fall in love. we are attracted to someone, fall in love…happy times, that ends soon.  we want the person to change in some way. we try to change the person forcefully or subtly. Bottom line we think the person whom we were attracted to  once doesn’t seem attractive enough!  Why does love fade away?  

It breaks my heart every time I hear a dog cry. They are chained and caged. I wish such dogs to spread some deadly diseases to the IDIOTS who torture them.    

Married / Screwed?

Name?

“Skyla”

Mrs. Skyla?

“No Miss Skyla!”

Miss?….age?

“31”

But miss?

“Yes”

     Such tiny conversation I had with the lady behind the reception at a scan center. She was polite, making an appointment for me with a smile on her face. She must be my age or younger. Married for sure, saw her bright yellow ‘thali’. I went there to take a mammogram and what gave her the shock was me telling her that I was a miss not a mrs! This title thing is getting on my nerve these days! Why is marriage given so much importance? Let me rephrase…why is marriage before thirty- ish so important?

     Speaking of my own life, I got a divorce not just because I married the wrong guy, but because I married him for wrong reasons too. Like many women I had to ‘control’ my emotions and the biological urges of my body. Marriage here is the only way to have sex (well in majority of cases). It is quite natural and normal for an adult to long for a companion who is hoped to satisfy you emotionally and sexually.  But to find such a person is a herculean task, given the innumerable restrictions for a woman.

     I was crazily in love with my ex, but he married me as he  lost hope of getting a ‘proper’ marriage from his family. Men are not our enemy and not all men are bad. I would not have gotten married if live-in relationships are not a taboo here. Most of us get married because that is the next thing to do after one finishes education and gets a job. Marriage, both arranged and non-arranged, is a big gamble. There are pros and cons in both the types, but the main reason for it to take place is – everyone does it and so does everyone.

​Yes, live-in relationships spoil our “culture” – one woman for one man – but come on whom are we kidding? ‘To get married’ should be a seriously- taken- individual decision.  No one should get married because of their parents or because of the pressure from the society or because one wants to be loved.

     And if you do get married for one such reason then yeah you are screwed!

Life as I know it

     I am a romantic. I grew up watching English movies and fell in love with the language. It sounded beautiful and simple to me. My summer holidays were spent watching movies all night or reading novels. The rage of the Angels was my first novel. I remember the first time I went to the Central Library in my hometown, Madurai. The place made me very happy.

     I hate crowded places and the English Fiction was the most secluded, unvisited section of the library. As I walked silently amidst the tall racks of books I was the only one who could hear my heart  screaming with joy. I wish I could remember the titles of the books I read in that period. My memory sucks! But I remember this one book that moved me deeply and shook me to the core – Anne Frank’s Diary! I saw myself in her. Having the habit of keeping a journal and growing up with sisters as rivals made me think so.

     The first pain I could remember was caused by my sisters, I was not included in their circle. I remember playing in the streets or in the house all alone all the time.

The second pain was caused by the society. I was termed as the dark girl. I remember looking in mirror and seeing what the others see.

     The third pain was by my body filled with hyper hormones. I was so longing to be loved  and to be touched. I remember drinking cough syrup to put me to sleep, as the “thoughts” kept me up.

The fourth and the most painful – My marriage. I have heard nasty things that would make one want to throw up! I was strangulated, slapped, kneed on my breast, dragged by pulling my hair, arm twisted to the extent that I thought it wasgonna come off my shoulder….

And now back to square one…

So I thought!

     But you know what all those pain were not caused by others! I am so not going to be a coward to blame others for my sad life. I ‘m going to keep my head up high and change the story of my life into a happy one. Let them try to screw it up, in any which way but I am not going to give “a tiny rat’s ass” about it at all. This is me.  

     I have been so arrogant to think that I was living a horrible life, a life of feeling so lonely from a very young age, a life of seeking for love in the wrong places, a life of verbal and physical abuse as an everyday occurrence.

     I am out of the pain I was in and now it seems like I am ready to count the blessings. When Holocaust did not change the person Anne Frank was, what I went through is nothing.  My battle is no more with the others.  Every step I take now is towards keeping myself happy, without hurting others.  

The messed up families at the Family Court

     My divorce was finalized last week. It was a terrible experience, not the divorce but the marriage. I was lost for seven years. And it was such a relief that I got ‘me’ back. Yes it is a difficult life, but I am used to do stuff alone even when I was in that relationship. The family court in Coimbatore has given me such meaningful experiences. The first time I went there I was real sad. Sad not because it was the beginning of the end of my marriage, but because I saw many women in worse state than I was. There was this weird silence with high tension in the waiting area which anyone who walks in can feel. The place was crowded with all mismatched couples and a few parents.

     There was this one young girl with her dad and I saw their advocate talking to them. She seemed friendly and I started talking to her. She was more than okay with the idea of divorce. She showed me the guy she had married, a tall baldie who looked very normal. They were married for a very short time and they decided to end it legally with mutual consent. I thought it was very smart of them, unlike me who went through a hell of seven long years. The other women I saw were not solucky as the young girl.

     Their sad faces told a different story, a story that is not anywhere near its end. It is not the separation that gives relief; it is the emotional detachment from the spouse that caused/causes pain. The process of divorce is easier if it has mutual consent, if not it is an opening to a mine field. I saw couples quarrelling in the waiting area and even in front of the judge.

     The most heartrending scene for me was to see a young mother who had come with her tiny baby. The mother and the grandmother of the baby tried everything to comfort the crying baby. Finally they gave in and the mom started to feed the baby covering it with a towel on her shoulders. She felt really awkward to do that with so many men around her. She couldn’t leave the place too as her name would be called any minute.  And as it is most of the time for some of us (life is unfair) her name was called and she pulled the baby from her breast, gave it to her mother, and moved into the courtroom hastily. I saw her husband too going in, who had been standing there all along with no emotion whatsoever, looking at the crying baby and the two women struggling to comfort it, like any other man there.

     That reminded me of the horrible things that had happened to me by this one man whom I loved dearly once.  My baby was cranky all the time, crying mostlyexcept when she was sleeping. This one night I was doing some work in the kitchen and I heard her crying. I thought her dad would take care as he was lying next to her. But she didn’t stop. So I went in and it disturbed me to see him so undisturbed by her tears. I bent down to pick her up telling him why he couldn’t do something about her crying. He with all his might kicked me at my chest, sending me sharp pain as I was lactating then. He went back to sleep and I came out the bedroom carrying my sweet baby.   I have decided not to let my screwed up marriage affect me in any way, but this incident is something that brings me tears every time I think of it.

     Standing there in the court with all such thoughts flooding my mind only made me want to be stronger than ever before. And on the final day, at the same place, while waiting for my name to be called, I went to him and sat next to him talking. By that I told him indirectly that I am in control of my life and that he cannot stop me from being happy. I went to café coffee day straight from the family court and had me a chocolate cake. Though I have it every time I go there, it tasted much better that day.

We, the Machine Makers!

                  What is the end of education? It makes you a better person.  But now?  Education is a means to make money or like in many cases to get a prospective marriage proposal.  Young minds are expected to get the degree and see big bucks right away. Not their fault, because education is given to them by people who want to see big bucks. It is not a service to the society, to give back, that is in the minds of the people (mostly successful business men) who run such institutions. This idea of “real success is if you make money” is forced on everyone. One common goal for all. And the result every individual learner is expected to act and talk and even look the same way.

            It begins from school, in the form of Uniform! The idea behind this uniform culture here is so that the kids know that they are equals. But are they? Why hide the fact from them? Why not teach them the truth for a change? That some are rich and some are not so and that it is all fine as long  as  you have a good heart.

             My daughter is allowed to wear hair clips or head bands only if those are black or white.  Why this lesson on discrimination at a young age?  It is decided that other colors are not appropriate. May be so the kids will not be distracted from studying and get attracted towards other beautiful things? How depressing! It is like a scene in “the Village” when a hand plucks and crushes the beautiful red flower (or yellow I don’t remember) that has bloomed that morning.

              Every one of us is different and still every one of us must respect each other. Isn’t this we should teach in schools to make them be responsible grown –ups? Instead we deprive them of simple joys and call that “discipline.”  

             “Pig tails and other focus areas” an article by Reena Salil in the Hindu , Coimbatore edition (July 6, Open Page ) discusses a similar issue. The “rule book” for girls is bulkier than boys’.  Too much “protection” is what harms them more. Our culture is so that dependency is the only way for growth of an individual, dependency on the parents or on the code of the society. And so our kids stumble when it comes to making a decision or thinking about doing something new, different from others. That is why the mass production of doctors and engineers.

             It continues to happen in colleges. Individuality is killed here too. How is it possible to expect young adults to behave the same way? Appropriate behavior is fine but the same behavior? If anyone deviates a little then they are wrong and punished, to maintain order. All the thinking is done for them already. Like a live studio audience they are expected to laugh when they are shown a ‘laugh’ board.  That is the condition here now. Choose medicine or engineering, get grilled for four or five years, get a job that pays well. The End? No! They leave the student-proofed school/college and enter into the real world. 

              They learn their real lessons here, the hard way.

                                                                                       

The "Modern" Woman!

                I went to an all women police station to give a complaint against my (ex) husband who had the habit of beating me up black and blue. My complaint was not taken instead I was given a lecture about the uniqueness of the station. Their job is not to break up couples but to unite them, I was told. The frequent visits to the police station and to the court,  if I filed a complaint  was brought to my notice. It frightened me. I was in severe pain already and I was emotionally wounded too.  

                He was called and they talked to him, hearing out his problems with me (spending money for lipstick, going to the mall without making dinner for him, going to watch movie alone at night...) All these made them look at me differently. I don’t blame them because they were brought up to think like such things are wrong for a woman to do. The day ended there. We were asked to come the next day. The next day I went there straight from work. The way I was treated made me feel horrible. A woman in uniform looked at my accessories and made sarcastic comments. The lady in charge  asked me with a smirk  “Do you work in a co-ed college?”  I was judged by the lipstick and the neck piece I was wearing!

          Had I gone there with torn clothes and messed up hair may be they would have sympathized with me. I was calm and composed, not because I was okay, but because I had no life left in my body or in my mind then. So unknowingly I had given them the wrong impression of a “modern” woman.  They expected some one uncontrollably weepy or someone who verbally attacks the husband who has done wrong. But there I was sitting with a heavy heart listening to the load of shit he was telling them about me.

            I had confused my neighbors too. They hear me crying in pain at night when he attacks me. The next day they see me leave the house and come back with a big bag of pizza or something. Modern woman!

              I was expected to sit and cry in darkness for the life that I had.  I did that too, but only for a few minutes right after the attack. Then when the sun rises I see the new day and do my stuff.  After seven years of experiencing the same thing over and over again I got used to it. I no longer talked back, or cursed or left the house or cried. At one point nothing he did made me to react.

              This one time after thrashing me, he started abusing me verbally, I was still quiet and  not even a drop of tear fell from my eye. He spat on me and left. I got up went to the bathroom, washed my face, and did what I had to do next. I didn’t want him to win. I didn’t want to crumble down, not at least in front of him. I didn’t want that dark force to affect me. This could not be understood by all.

              Even now when people come to know that I live alone they tell me that I should have stayed with him for the sake of my daughter.

          Going to watch a movie, or eating out , or living alone are not signs of showing others how “modern” I am. Sometimes only those things give me peace!