Respect.

It is rare that I will have a heart to heart with any of my folks. Mostly the lack of deep conversation emanates from the discomfort of being judged on choices made. Though for once, the first in my lifetime I, the so called strong woman in the family reached out to the motherhood for help. The help word freaked out the folks because they know their daughter to be someone else altogether. In a moment of rage, hurt and stinging tears, the confessions tumbled out. No surprise. No judgments. Just soothing words. A few scattered comments. But mostly, all attention.

And then the advice: It isn't going to be rosy. You must settle with it.

I grew up in a typical household wherein I saw the ladies doing the "holding the family together" bit. Mostly, I grew up to understand the importance of equality as much as the folks tried to instill in me the reality that I was in fact a woman. And settling in would be something that I will be required to do. At various points. Not compromises. Compromise is still a mutual agreement on dealing with certain situations a certain way. Settling in - no arguments, no show downs. Just coming to terms with how it is. Often, I would question - Why can't the other party do it as much as I do it. These questions would be in relation to broken friendships, people who turned their backs in the moment of crisis etc.

The more I was told to come to terms with the settling in part, the more rebellious I became. Partly, because I knew it to be unfair. And partly also because an extremely rigid sense of right and wrong was installed in me long long ago. So long ago, that I do not even remember when. It is probably something that never came from the surroundings. It came from within somewhere.

Mostly, I have come to respect what women from the generation of my folks have managed to do. If I was in extreme denial and disbelief as a teen of 15 or 16, today I have managed to put it all on a pedestal for worship. Not because I think I need to be that ways. But because it requires courage, patience, sacrifice and letting go of your own desires to keep things together and tethered. To scatter is easy, to keep it together is going to be painful - says she. And I believe her. I tell her I won't be the only one doing the keeping together bit. Because, I know I am worth it. I am worth being fetched, loved and kept. The folks shake their heads. They probably know that someday I might give up. But I think I won't because I know that if I have a daughter, I want her to know that she is beautiful and that she deserves to be respected. I want her to know that her feelings are valuable. That in no way she should get bogged down or let anyone mess up her self esteem. That she must be open, that her own values might get tested, that she must sometimes stand her ground firmly. And if I have a son, I know I will tell him that there will be someone who will make him special and he needs to be fair to her. And if he can't, I would blame my upbringing. That's how my mother brought me up. That's how every woman should feel. Because, many among us will put in our hearts and souls in to nurturing others. And it is only fair, to be loved and respected and have the rest of the world be grateful that we can indeed love you, cherish you and make you feel the center of our universe. The least you can do is - respect that; and deal with the things we can't do.

Because on good days, we will stand by you, love you, hold you and be good to you. On bad days, just like you have those, we will need exactly what we gave to you.

It is fair. And many among us, truly deserve that.

Since You Left

The pain and hurt remain as vivid in the heart as if it was happening right now - like you were moving away in all of that lazy haze that swirled around you. I held out my hand in release or as a desperate attempt to reach out to you still - was it yesterday? 

Was it time that swept you away across the farther end of the board and then stood still or was it my own mind forgoing all physical strings that remained long after the mind had already nipped off all vital connections between you and me. Why still is the pulse beating lazily setting off the jumbled mumbo jumbo of a movie - snippets of you and me, of you, of me, and then of you and me. Were it supposed to be that I will mirror you - aren’t you the past which has forever crept into my present and every moment of the future; slowly passing through the present and moving on to become the past again. Why are you not past. There isn’t a denial, neither any desire to pull back the past to the present. There is a dull throb in the head filled with an overwhelming realization that you; my friend are forever going to be what defined me. What defines me. What will define me.

 
You are the experience. The learning. The regrets. The good. The bad. Me

You are the loss I have no regrets for. You are those faces I know are not the same. The reflections that got caught and froze in the mirror of my mind. The reflections that remain oblivious to reality and change. I reach not to clasp you with both my hands; for you are gone. Forever. The pulse beats lazily. The movie plays. In rewind. Then fast forward.

The games we play - are just scenes from a memory.