LEMON TARTS, AFTERNOON DISCO….

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“Afternoon Discotheque!!” Bunking college once every few weeks was common among a few of us. We would sneak down to our favorite road-Brigades and head to 5th Avenue to the afternoon disco. Yes we called it “disco” back in the 90’s too. And we were not the only ones who were bunking college. Getting there early was key so we did not have to pay. That is where I got to meet one of the “players” of Bangalore. He was a fabulous dancer, very charming and everyone knew him. He and I hit it off well because I loved dancing too. The next couple of years he and I would go out dancing whenever we could. And the best part of our relationship, it was just about dancing. We would sometimes dance whenever we got together as it was fun.

We girls knew how to have fun and we did not need alcohol or drugs to have the kind of masti(fun) we had. We were the loudest on the Bangalore streets, sometimes teasing the men right back. We were fearless because we had each others backs. We never cared about the stares we received we just knew this was the life.We all came from different backgrounds and what connected us was our no nonsense attitude, and FOOD. Sharing each others food was a very typical thing in India, and I miss that here. Our little joys in life were lemon tarts from Sweet Chariot, Hot Chocolate Fudge(HCF) from Corner House, and Idlis and filter coffee from Brahmins.  If you ever visit Bangalore these places are a must, including some other ones-they are part of old Bangalore. 

College was getting more interesting. Our Psychology professor was a nun, and she was so much fun. My favorite was Abnormal psych.-we delved into the madness of the mind. We also got to bring our friends in for psychology experiments. These experiments were fun. And then in Literature it was the Metaphysicals…do you see a pattern here? I was not a fan of Linguistics, even though our teacher was very sweet. My two favorite poems were The Flea by John Donne and Sonnet 116 by Shakespeare.

None of us had boyfriends…at least I don’t think we did. We didn’t need boys in our lives just as yet I guess. One of my closest friends used to talk to us about her cousin and how he was this perfect son. He sounded perfect to me even though I had never met him, as yet. Then on Valentine’s day my world was about to change completely. I get a call from her asking me if I wanted to come to dinner with her and her cousin who was visiting. I love “Indian” Chinese food and there was never formality where food was concerned. They picked me up, it was dark and I couldn’t really see his face. Then he sat in front of me at the restaurant, and my heart raced. Oh my god…he was the one.

 

COLLEGE!! OH BOY!

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Okay, after a couple of detours, lets get back on track. Let’s get on with how I ended up in America “by default”.

I walked through those college gates with the largest chip on my shoulder. I did not want to be there. After my mother dropped me off I took a deep breath, held my head up high like a complete snob and walked in confidently. I had no idea what to expect. Was I going to be ragged? Was I going to get into a fight on my first day? It actually turned out to be quite a boring first day … just like the next few months. I’m pretty sure the girls thought I was rude and stuck-up. It worked in my favor because I was not there to make friends. I was never ragged by the seniors. I remember being in the nurses office often because I would faint constantly. I still do. I have no idea why.

Even though I was not there to make friends I ended up making solid connections with some mental females. I still share a bond with them today. I don’t know what I would have done without them in my life. They are part of the reason I am still breathing today. Them and my ability to survive anything thrown at me have kept me going. By the middle of the year I had made a few friends, and my attitude about being there was changing slowly. I still missed him so much, but had to move on. I went on to win the college queen title, which was so weird, but fun to take part in.

Home life was an adjustment. I kept to myself a lot. I fought a lot with everyone. In other words, I was a complete bitch. Dancing was my stress buster and I did a lot of dancing in those three years. I met a lot of good dancers, but my two favorites were my dad and my brother. They both could keep up with me. That was awesome. I learned the bus routes and would go to my moms work after college to hang out. I did not have my own transportation as yet. I relied on my mother every morning to drop me to college. That changed toward the end of the first year when my dad bought me my first bike. It gave me my independence back and gave my dad gray hair.

My first year in college was not as exciting as the next two years. That is where all the action was. It was leading me to meeting my soulmate…at least I thought he was. It was also putting things in place for me to leave my home forever. Changes were taking place…..but for now we were a family again.

MASTI…

 

SASHA….I killed her.

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I still hear her beating heart at times. She would have been 8 in six months.

When I was a teenager, I always knew for some reason that my first baby would be named Sasha. Why that name? I have absolutely no clue. But that was to be their name-boy or girl. Well, marriage was far from my mind when I was younger, as I had so much more to do with my life. I did what was needed-school, college, job and then finally in my thirties I decided to get married. Even that almost did not happen, but then again who said you need to be married to have a baby.

On my way to India in January 2008, I knew I was pregnant. I did not tell anyone. I happened to be in Bombay, when my aunt looked at me and asked if I was pregnant. I didn’t think it was that obvious, since it was only the first month. Well me being in a doctors home, I was given a pregnancy test and lo and behold I was. I was happy and scared as I was traveling. Something just did not feel right. Mentally, I was very stressed and would fight with my parents. I didn’t know I had so much anger and rage. Blame it on hormones, environment or whatever, but this should have been the most joyous moment of my life and I felt uneasy.

From Bombay we went to Delhi, and then back to Bangalore. My husband was arriving and we were to head out to Madras via road or did we fly I cannot remember. Everyone was happy with the news, I was too but not all the time. We drove to Pondicherry, and that was a long drive. We stopped at some fort by the beach, and saw that they had just found a woman who had drowned. What a horrible sight, and what was worse they just dumped her body in the trunk of the car and shut the trunk lid. We moved on and I decided to climb a wall to get sight of the view. Climbing down I had help and then decided to jump. My mom told me not to but it was too late. That night the inevitable happened I started bleeding and had to wait all night to get to the doctor the next day. OMG, her heart was beating, weak, but beating. I cried and asked for my husband to come in, but India has some weird rules and he could not hear the heartbeat. I cried and pleaded as I knew this was the only time I would hear that heart but they could not care less.

My husband had to leave on the day I had my ultrasound in Bangalore. The treatment of women who are about to lose their baby is horrendous in India. The lack of empathy and emotion really bothered me, like this life did not matter.They did the ultrasound and I was told “its dead”. I lay there motionless and without any emotion. Came out to a room full of people, looked at my mom and said the same thing-its dead. I was given the abortion pills and instructions. I just wanted someone to hold me, and I was alone, like I always was. My baby was no more, and my heart was broken never ever to be the same again. I was not going to be the same. My bitterness increased to a new level. I still had my smile, but no one knew the pain I was going through and I decided to shut the world out of my life.

I told my parents to leave me alone in the apartment. I did not want anyone around me and needed my privacy while I grieved for someone I had never met and was never going to meet. Just the sound of her heartbeat stayed with me and played in my head. I cried every day till I left. My parents cried, my brother cried, all for a little soul we had not met. All I thought about was that I had killed my baby, and that ate at me and still does to this day. There are days I still hear her heartbeat and cry and that will stay with me till I die. I got pregnant again and thought this time around I would be careful till I decided to lift my husbands niece so she could wash her hands. And I woke up hysterical and bleeding and just thought to myself I cannot go through this again. This time around he was a strong one, a fighter and had his sister protecting him. My miracle baby. I finally became a mother.

Every year my son and I celebrate Sasha’s birthday on September 21st, the day of my grandfathers birthday too. He knows that she was his big sister who watched over him and all I know is that I am the one who killed her.

The view I climbed to see
Infamous view

 

one day old

A slight detour…

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“But daddy he is so black”, the only time I used the color reference against my brother, and oh boy, I had never seen my father so angry. I had picked it up from one of the elders who used to comment about my mother and brother’s skin color and I did not know any better. It became an extremely important teaching moment for my parents. After that day I have not noticed skin color on anyone. In a way, I am color blind.

The jungles of Bandipur and the noisy streets of Mysore were like our second home. The adventures I had with my best friend were priceless. Having a grandfather who was a forest officer came with its perks. We got whisked off to Bandipur once or twice a month. We got to stay at the Forest Officer’s Guest House and got access into parts of the forest where no one else was allowed. We got to play with the cubs, and I got to hold the baby chimp and I received the best hug from him.

On one of these trips, we decided to go off into the forest using the elephants of course. We were quite deep in the jungle when we were charged by the wild elephants. What a rush! I am sure it was quite scary for the adults. Mom reminds me on how fearless I was, as I would walk into the jungle by myself. I look at her and say “That was a pretty stupid thing for me to do !” (considering we could hear the big cats in the night). Apparently it was not an isolated incident. Mom tells me that  I ran off at a mall in Singapore when I was three . For three hours mom did not know where I was till they announced my name. Oh boy, if something like that happened to my son, I would be hysterical. And on another occasion I decided to walk home from school when I was in Kindergarten. Only thing is home was 6.2 KM from school. I decided in my five year old brain I did not have to wait for my mother, and walked. Just as I reached the house, after hitching a ride about 2 kilometers from my home my mom, principal, aunt and grandmother pulled up. Oh Boy!!

My brother and I were blessed to have my mom and dad as our parents. They doted on us: I was Daddy’s little girl and my brother was a Mama’s boy. We had a very normal childhood and we fought like most siblings do. We climbed trees, rode our bikes, played in open construction lots in the neighborhood and roller skated on main roads. At the drive-in movies, I was the one dancing on top of the car, he was the quiet one. But when Amithab died in a movie, we both bawled…and I still do. He and I were inseperable. His girlfriends hated me ,or were scared of me. I was unapproachable to some people ( of my own choosing). I did get to find him his bride though 🙂 and I absolutely love her.

Going off to Madras, and being away from him, was very difficult for both of us. So in all, I got to spend only 14 years of my life with my brother and my parents. I still don’t know how I did it. Mom said I was a survivor and independent from the start . Even a survivor needs family as time passed is never recovered.

I hope I get to go back home for at least a year and create more memories with my family and best friend.

Kamil and me

BANGALORE: I was home…but only for a bit

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My bags were packed and so I left Madras with a heavy heart. I was completely unsure about everything. In my first month I tried to adjust to my “new” life in Bangalore. Being with my parents was great. I had missed them so much. I left home when I was a preteen and came home as an adult. They missed my teenage years. I cannot imagine what they must have gone through. They too had to adjust to me now and I knew it was not going to be easy for either of us.

The surroundings were familiar, some friends were still there, but it wasn’t the same as it was when we were kids. Everyone seemed to have grown up too…..duh! Why did I think that people would be the same? But some things remained unchanged. The narrow mindedness of the community remained the same and having a direct personality did not help me re-assimilate. They couldn’t understand why I couldn’t be more girlish (whatever that meant). So I kept away from the community, which seemed to work for all parties involved.

Mom helped me with my admission into school and we finally settled on an all girls college. Now there is something you should know about me. Most of my friends while growing up were guys, and I was never one of the “girly-girls” I was always one of the guys. So for me, this was going to be an interesting experience. Since I had moved back, I was not interested in anything, and was becoming anti-social which was new for me. I couldn’t understand what was going on with me. Thus started my “rebellious” phase.

Life at home had its moments and, just like most families, we got along most days. We also had our share of “not so nice days”. I had several outbursts at home, causing my mom and me to constantly butt heads. My outbursts stemmed from not being able to study what I wanted, not being able to be with my friends, and then finding out that he may have found someone else. Mom had this notion that I blamed her for sending me to Madras. I never did and I couldn’t convince her otherwise. She and dad had their reasons and I didn’t want to know why. I was exactly like my mother, and yet different. She was more emotional than me, and I was more aggressive than her, but she was my everything. She was more forgiving of people, I was not. One of my character flaws(which I am still working on)-I don’t usually give second chances to anyone-family or friends.

Why did it seem like life was about to get more complicated? Maybe I was wrong….bring on college life.

 

Late 80’s/Early 90’s: Part 2 End of school life

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So the early 90’s and pretty much the rest of the decade was a mixed bag of emotions. The nightmares were back in full force, my gender played against me, my first kiss 😊  and then I had to move cities again…How did I survive?

The Nightmares:

Waking up screaming for my mother became a very common thing in the early 90’s with me. The suppressed memories from my early childhood days, revived the worst kind of nightmares, right around when I was trying to figure out my way in this world. I needed a support system more than ever. There was no one to turn to, no one to talk to about my fears, and no one to advice me at all. The only way I could control these fears, was by immersing myself completely in my sports, music and friends. But even my closest of friends had no clue about what I was going through, as I never wanted to burden anyone.

School: Old and New

There was so much going on at school. We had a school strike-I don’t remember exactly why, but it was when I was fearless and defied the seniors who stormed into our class while we had a test.

I moved to a new school (9th & 10th grade), and made more new friends, who were just as fun as the old lot. Cake fights, crazy dandiya nights, movies, were just some of the fun things we did at this new school. At the new school, there was a little boy, who would end up being a huge motivating force in my present life.  I would still go back to Asan to see my old classmates, and that is when I noticed him. What was his name? He was my neighbor! I used to see him leave for school every morning, and return in the evening. I don’t remember how we started talking, but when we did and I realized we both were mental cases, equally possessive, and both crazy about each other. When I did move back to my old school, he was one year my senior. He was the first one I slow danced with, and the first boy I kissed. I remember one occasion, where he had to be locked in his classroom because he was mad at me, probably something that I did to annoy him. I won’t go into any more detail about him, as my parents read this too 😉. But he introduced me to one of my favorite genres of music and I absolutely love him for that. He did eventually ask me to marry him but I couldn’t, because I loved his parents a lot, and I knew exactly what his mom wanted for him, so I had to let go.

My final year of school was lovely-our class got suspended for a week, because someone decided to set off fire crackers in the closet of our classroom. How and who did it, I still have no clue. But it was in the middle of our accounting class, and boy was the professor pissed off. The principal accused me, saying since I come early to school to practice, it could have been me. What a crazy year, and I loved every bit of it. I won two regattas, got the best outgoing sportswoman of the year and passed my 12th grade.

I had some very close friends by the time I finished school. One silly one lived around the block, and his home was my second home. So I had parents away from my own, who loved and adored me. I also learnt how to drive-the Ambassador was my favorite. I used to drive down Mount Road extremely fast-some of my friends still shudder at those memories. There were a lot of hospital visits, as my grandparents were in and out of them. My two sweethearts would sometimes bring food to the hospital, and keep me company. I hated the smell of hospitals. On my last day of school, my grandpa was shocked that I was done. He had no clue as to which grade I was in. So he said the next thing was for me to get married. I didn’t know how to react and just said no, I wanted to study.

We graduated high school, and were ready for the crazy world of college. I thought I would continue my studies in Madras, but other plans were being made. I got into the Hotel Management program, and even secured a scholarship to go to Switzerland for a month, but I was informed I couldn’t because I was a girl. I didn’t know that my gender would play against me. That was not how I was raised. What a low blow to my self-esteem.

So this was the end of my time in Madras, before I left back for my hometown. Uncertain of what I was going to do, as I wanted to do my management, but settled for Arts, and I knew that I was wasting my time doing it. I left heartbroken, and with a lot of pain. I felt at that time that I was unwanted, and didn’t want to leave my amazing friends behind. They had been my everything for the last eight years, and the one who had taken my heart, how was life going to be without him. More adventure awaited me, as I prepared for my new life with my parents. Gosh I had missed them so much and was looking forward to living with them again, but I was going to miss living with my grandparents too.

Late 80’s/Early 90’s-part one

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Okay…you guys rock. Thank you for the overwhelming support, encouragement and tips. It means the world to me. Though I think, you all are just being really kind to me, I am not that good at writing my thoughts very well. It is a work in progress. Okay, so here goes…the mid to late 80’s.

After spending the first half of my awesome childhood in Bangalore with my parents, I moved to Madras (now Chennai), to live with my grandparents. I loved my grandparents, and didn’t think much of the move. So I had a new school, new friends, new environment…you get the gist.

My life without my parents:

I enjoyed being in Madras, but not being able to share any of my achievements with my parents gnawed at me. I felt alone a lot of the times, but luckily I had some awesome friends that kept me sane. I used to find solace in music too-I loved to dance, and much to the dismay of my neighbors, who had to put up with the loud music. There were trees and walls to climb, places to just run around and be a kid. But not being able to share my day with anyone was a little depressing. And I was not really a “kid” anymore. I was growing up, and fast. The values my parents had instilled in me at a very young age were never shaken without them. I continued being honest with my grandparents, and could never break that trust. So I immersed myself in sports, studies, music and my friends. Without my friends, I would have probably gone completely mental.

School was a lot of fun. My classmates were a crazy, fun bunch and most of us still keep in touch after all these years(yay for FB). There were so many new experiences- from my first crush to my first heartbreak, my best friend leaving and also quickly learning that some people are born with an evil streak.

I was so naive and silly back then(not much has changed), but they were simpler fun times. I still remember one of my sweetest friends(you know who you are) waiting for me at the school gate every morning, with Neem flowers in his hand, because I loved them. He was my first crush, and boy did we fight, but he is still the perfect sweetheart even today. It was also the time when I was at my fittest. I was on the track team, volleyball, kho-kho, and I used to row. I also got to sing with one of the sweetest guys in my class, who sadly passed away, leaving us shocked. That was when I first realized, we were not invincible-Life was too darn short. I wanted to do so much with my life, but little did I know about the obstacles I was going to face.

This was the period when suppressed memories were also brought back, like a slap on my face. Damn, the monster and nightmares were back.

 

America by Default

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First of all, I am not a writer, I just suffer from verbal diarrhea.

The reason for my title is actually quite simple. It is not related to the economy or anything like that. I never had America in my life plan. There was no intention to ever move here. However, “life happened”, it became my home and after almost 20 years of being here, I do still call it home, but there is something that is nagging at me. Something I need to figure out. So let’s start this story from as far back as I can remember.

A brief history: I was born in India to two amazing soulmates. I was their “love child”. They were married, but even then, there was drama. My paternal grandparents were upset their son was marrying a Sunni woman…blah, blah, blah! But after I was born they were more accepting. My mother was on the darker side so she had to deal with racism in the family, and so did my brother. I was raised to be very independent, honest, respectful and empathetic.

I am going to write this in different parts and it may be haphazard. I make no apologies for that as this is straight from my heart.

This is my therapy 😉

Coming up next: Late 80’s/Early 90’s