Mansi

There are times I can't hear my voice. As a woman, I think it's natural to have many voices that have nothing to do with being a woman. It comes from being the nurturer. It comes from being the caregiver, be it in the kitchen or at a hospital.
Least of all however, is the workplace. I hardly hear my voice in there. There is more truth to the phase - a man's world than we realize. Am I being a man in a man's world?

This is what I ask myself. No, it's not strange for a woman to 'be' something or someone else. This multi-roles are conditioned responses to years and years of being on the lower rung. Sometimes I wonder what it will take to realize the voice that is mine alone.

Recently there's been a huge hula about organizing a 'blogmeet' in Delhi. It's tomorrow evening at Flames, GKII. I am not excited about this one. I really don't want to go and meet men. Men, especially from the countless emails in our blog list, seem to be so boring and superfluous. Each time I read the updated attendance, I wonder if I'll get to read of another woman who's coming to the meet. Someone who might have an interesting blog, life or take on things.

Not that I vouch for being that voice. I don't.

A woman's voice.

I belong to a couple of mail lists and all of them have a very poor show when it comes to women speaking their mind. Mostly I believe because it isn't natural for women to speak out. We tend to guage, anticipate, weigh and are hardly ever into chest beating. I fear it's also because we tend to support first and oppose last.

Imagine when the dam breaks. Imagine a day when women find their voice - like a bell ringing at a church. I wonder what it will all sound like. A woman's voice.

POST'BLOG'SCRIPT - I did attend the Blog Meet despite being tired to the bone. I did register conversations for the first hour and then just tuned out after - again because of my tired state and not really because of the company I kept. It was refreshing as most blog meets are to meet nice 'new' chaps who're going down their roads and eager to share their life experiences. Superflous, they were not. As far as women's voices, there was Diya, refreshing and keen to engage:

It's not about chocolates, curd rice with pickles, warm crepes, hot chocolate sauce, caramel, murkhs or garlic bread. It's not about what you're eating.
I learnt yesterday that it's about eating itself. I have a dependency (addiction is extreme) with eating. The ability to pick up food, play with it some and then feed myself constitutes eating. With some of us, it's more than just nutrition or meal time.
It's about those times when we want to talk to someone but can't. It's about those times when we want to feel something but can't. It's about those times when we feel something but don't know beyond that. It's about the times when we need to take a break and only know one way to break.
I share that kind of a relationship with eating. It lets me keep my fingers busy. It keeps my mouth busy. Beyond that, the feeling in my fingers, mouth and sometimes stomach, I really can't feel much else. In that sense, eating is an exclusive relationship. There isn't space for anything else.
Admitting to my dependency on eating is very hard. It isn't a conscious process. One can't fill out a questionnaire, add up the points and announce to the world - 'I'm dependent on eating'. It's a realization as painful and wonderful as any other relationship.
When the going is good, a relationship with eating is quite numbing. You aren't thinking about it. It's as natural as anything else you do and even more. It's addictive. Soon you won't realize that you are inseperable. I eat when I am happy. I eat when I am down. I eat when I want to take a break. I eat while I work. I eat while I do everything. I plan my activities around eating. Going for a movie is about what to eat before, during and after. Going shopping is about what to eat before, during and after. It isn't always junk food - Eating is good as long you're doing it. Be it salads, negative calorie foods, wholewheat, wheatgerm, dunking doughnut, pasta e fungi - that's all consolation for souls in denial (just like eating likes it). Like a long, loving relationship, eating grows on you, into you and then becomes you.
Eating is a over-jealous lover. I can't find time to do anything but eat. Eating seems to take priority over everything and everyone else.
Eating is a manipulative lover. There is no wins - just levels of measuring up. Have I had enough to eat? (you'll never ever find out!!) Does it feel good? (almost never matters..)
Eating is devious with my emotion strings. Last week my father in law insulted my eating relationship and boy, I've been in part sulking for the better part of five days.

Eating tapdances across my emotions like they aren't mine anymore.
Anybody reading this would figure by now, like I did last night, that this was not 'alive' or 'kicking'. It's not about substituting chocolates for carrots. It's not about eating salads instead of bread. The fine understanding of food groups and food qualities is well and good but don't count.
This relationship is physical: starting at my fingers, to my mouth and then a little beyond.
This relationship is all consuming: I can't tell myself apart.
This relationship is secretive: I can't really introduce eating to anyone, nor will eating allow it. All the denial only further deludes me to thinking there is no relationship at all.

Five weeks back, I decided to take part in a weight loss program. Something about eating salads, dals and fruits, exercing at least once a day jolted me out into the open.
Into the fourth week, I used to tell everyone about how I have two selves - physical and emotional and their nutritional needs are different. Or so I told myself.
Into the fifth week, I slipped. I ate, I didn't exercise. And then something snapped inside me. The frustrations, the bruised emotions of the past week rolled into one big outburst.

I was angry at the world and at myself. I was upset with the world and myself. I felt rejected and I knew I was the one doing the rejecting.

Something did snap. It was my relationship with eating.
I realized that I didn't crave chocolates more than I did cucumber. When I was hungry, I was happy with the cucumbers. And I hated myself for it.
How could I turn my back on eating? How could I betray the many years of loving? How could I be so ungrateful?

How can I go on without eating in my life?
The truth is, I can. The truth is that I can't go on with the dependency. The truth is that this relationship is doing nothing for me. The truth is my relationship with eating leaves no space for me to be with other things /people. The truth is this relationship has in the past kept me from growing. Any time I was in conflict with someone else or myself, I always had eating to turn back to. And yet by turning away from conflicts, I stopped growing. I lost out on opportunities to get past minor bumps with my relationships with other people.

My relationship with eating is like a pimple, dried from the inside out. I can't wait for it to fall off.

Not a day goes by without a friend or colleague asking me about how marriage feels. Each day, I figure that I will have a better answer the next day.
It doesn't really matter if the person asking is married or not, young or old, male or female: Everybody is naturally curious about marriage. It just reinforces the fact that marriages are big events, life changing events, even highly ranked than getting into college, breaking a leg, joining the army or becoming Indian Idol. There is nothing more rivetting than a marriage, even when most of us are having the most normal of marriages (if there is such a thing)
Perhaps marriage to an Indian is also in line with how he or she converses - More is UNsaid than spoken and it's all about reading the little and small nuances (all of them in your head only btw)

On the other side of the question mark, I am an absolute delight to the person who asks me about my marriage. I think that's because of two things:
1. I tend to send out a lot of signals : there is no mystery in this body!
2. When I do speak, it's more or less a 'like it is' statement.
The combined effect of all of this is quite magnetic. People who've 'popped' the question often find it hard to let it go. I feel like they are watching me like I am a character in their favorite soap.

It's not attention I like, let me tell you that. Often when I fantasize about other people's attention, it's because of something I did or didn't do. It's not because of what and how I am! Almost makes me feel like a piece on exhibition.

With the closer of my friends, I really fret for an answer. I try to speak of my in-laws, the things I do at home, the things I don't. Of course when it comes to Deepan, all I still do is just gush and giggle! That doesn't help. With everything else, it's very hard. I try and find things to talk about -but the truth of the matter is, it's hardly been enough time. I don't know what to feel or expect, and I normally don't do either. I just go along, give people a lot of space and hope I'll get mine too.

I do feel sad sometimes that my marriage has meant different things to different people. There hasn't been a celebration of what marriage can be and is often not. There hasn't been a humility that comes with love and acceptance. Instead, it's like a jigsaw puzzle where as a bride, everybody wants their hand at plugging me into my 'place'. Each person has a different vision of what that place is and hence the puzzle just doesn't ever get done.

There are times when it gets to me. I am sure there are far more times when it gets to them. I am not so easy to peg. So in more ways than one, it's quite an exercise for everybody involved.

In that sense, marriage is surely more about a team than an individual. While two become one (as that song goes), that one then is part of a whole team of ones (all the married ones of our combined families). Sometimes I wonder if the ceremony of marriage should address this issue, more thoroughly. That with the bride and groom for example, we also could have the married couples remarrying. Perhaps in that act, they would realize where they are pegged vis a vis the 'center' of what marriages are really about.

I dread the day I will be pegged - a point beyond which I just can't resist anymore. Then, were I asked the same questions, I'd probably have more concrete answers and witty replies.

Till then, I am doing good skipping about, and in no hurry to find my answers. (nor yours)

I am addicted to American Idol because of people like Bo Wyse. I love Bo because he makes me feel sexy. He makes me want to sit down, cross my legs, keep my back straight and smile about something terribly naughty in my head. And no, it has nothing to do with him.

That's the kind of connection he spins on TV. He makes me lose myself in the magic that is me.

And no, I don't agree with Simon. Bo doesn't need to bring in his rock influence to popular songs. We need the popular songs to help 'tolerate' the bad singers. We need singers like Bo who choose songs that mean something to them and then turn it around to mean something for each of us.
I believe that three shows ago, Bo set his standard with that slow number about the candle. After that, he's just been hanging around while everybody else plays catch up.

This contest is not just about your voice box. You need a pretty decent voice box to get up there in the last ten. After that though, it's more about who you are - your ups and downs. Clearly the kids - Anwar, Anthony, Vonzel and Scotty are just that - kids. They need time to shape their hearts, their heads. We need to let them leave the competition to grow.
Too much of time in America is spent trying to find the youngest wonder because as we see twenty years hence, they aren't wonders anymore. They are like bonzais, stunted in their splendor!

We need singers like Bo and Nadia who show us what more we can find once we get past thier voice boxes. Here are individuals who despite everything that life throws at them are still there sculpting their craft to something that is inspired by God himself.

Go Boggie!!!

I know the truth. I always have, always will. You know the truth. You always have and you always will.
And yet, we find ways in which we turn our lives into some haphazard search for the truth - something we already know and will continue to know.
Take for example, food.
I've always known that vegetables, greens and dals are good for me. My skin loves them. My organs loves them. Yet, for the bulk of the last twenty years, I have ran as far away from as possible. When I got far enough (88kgs for me), I stopped, did an about turn and looked up to the heaven, in heartfelt panic, and called outloud - 'what is the truth?'
Painfully since, I have been finding my way back - back to food that my body relishes and yes, I feel quite silly. Where earlier, I kept myself going with grand plans for celebration, once I lost the fat and got fit - Now I realize that I've been silly and it's just got to stop. There is not going to be a grand celebration but rather a celebratory lifestyle. One I can embrace for it is what I am or one that I can run away from again.
Another example, writing a book.
I started out wanting to write a book at a very young age. Since, I've managed to distance myself from the actual act with countless reasons. I didn't have the skill. I was Indian and English is not my natural tongue. There are so many talented people around who are doing it. I am not meant to write a book. I can't hope to write a bookseller...it takes something I don't have.
All of the above of course were surface level cribs. Beneath them was this mega whine: I don't know how to write a book. I would go from site to site, taking notes and yet not convinced.
And then James came along. Here was a man who shared generously his inputs on the art of writing with exercises and support. And what do I do? I take copious notes in this lovely green book and then turn around and run for dear life.
And so on and so forth, my life is a continuous run from the truth. So I believe is the case with everyone at large. There are tasks that give us incredible joy (writing for me) and yet we are scared of it, scared shitless!
A friend and I were discussing Vipasana and I thought about it and feel that what ten days of silence would do is beat the crap out of our minds. By Day nine, we would have all succeeded in shutting down our minds. There would be just space to sit down and feed on the truth of our existence.
Each morning I go for my run, I feel my body and mind purging themselves of the excess. Each time, I feel like I am getting closer to a state where I am actually comfortable in my skin - -Imagine that.
Most of us fill up our days with so much of activity precisely because we just can't stomach ourselves - our truths.
When we return back to what we ran away from, we will stop learning. We will stop thinking. We will even stop feeling. We will be true.
Oprah says that you owe it to God to be the best person that you can be. In her bootcamp, she advices you to do what you think you cannot do (running in my case).
You can externalize your truth and mould it into a Ganesha, if that keeps you standing, breathing and comfortable. Or you might just run again.
What does it mean to be the best person that you can be? This question and statement scares me. Perhaps because I know what it means. I have felt it. I have lived it. And I have ran away from it. The further I run, the more in control I feel, the more chaotic and unhappy I become. In my case however, and probably yours too, you're never really far away. You're never really far enough.
It's almost like you're attached to your truth by an elastic rope...and the moment you stop running, you will get pulled back three times or even five times as fast back to the core. It also means that you could spend your whole life on just running and keeping that advantage of resistance and conflict.
Every now and then, you'll get pulled back and as much as you hate it, you will feel relief.
For example, the festivities around China and India is one such elastic moment.
Then again, your life could be a yoyo where you're constantly spinning off your center - up and down, short and long. I'm not there yet. I still tend to hang on - - except this time around, I am trying to hang on to the truth.

Sometimes you wake up in the morning and you need something extra to get you going. Sometimes when you're out shopping, you need something more than just money in the purse and a list in hand. As a woman, I need other women. I need women with whom I can sit down and chat about just nothing. I need women with whom I can go running with. I need women who'll hold my hand when I am in the hospital. I need women who'll help me 'get away' from my family - short trips to Delli Haat perhaps, longer trips to the hills.

I crave for female companionship!

Listening to Melissa Ethridge this morning, it reaffirmed what I sorely miss in my life - the space for women!

I am not referring to the fairer sex that populates Delhi. Women who are married to their husbands and nothing else. Others who use their work as an excuse to run away from every relationship they know, big or small. Or some women who need other women to help 'free' them from the clutches of their children, husband and in-laws, only to then go back and embrace the whole lot again!!
I am thoroughly disappointed with the women in Delhi. Never before, have I encounted such an enslaved lot.

A friend of mine some months back gifted me a book by Erma and I remember feeling this deep sadness and creepy loneliness despite all the ingredients of good humor. Being a housewife, the subject of almost all of Erma's stories, is an incredibly lonely affair. Even in a country in India, where a wife not only marries a man but also his parents, sisters and extended families. Typically a housewife will probably have no time to do anything. And yet it's just another job, isn't it? Where's the time for her? It's not about going to a spa or getting your hair cut. It's more than that.

It's about having meaningful, passionate relationships with other women.

Both my husband and I spend a lot of time on the Internet. Yet, he has far more women friends than I do. Yes, it's true. Women seem to only want meaningful relationships with other men. If for just that reason alone, we should abolish the practice of Valentine's Day, then I'll support it! Too much is made about the relationship between a man and a woman. Moreso in the sub-continent, because as I earlier wrote in an article on marriage, for Indian women, marriage is a BIG DEAL. It's their time to get those expensive parlor treatments, clothes, jewellery, shoes (lots of shoes!!!) and still manage to have a gala time all around. So most women, in and out of college tend to focus on just one sex - the wrong one!!!

When's the last time I walked down the street, arms interwined with another woman? When's the last time I could sit back and listen to a woman speak her mind? When's the last time I walked into a room and caught the attention of women?

Why is it that women in Delhi do their best to ignore other women? Why is there all this competition? envy? fear?
Why do women here want others to be just like them? Why are they always asking about their husbands or in-laws? Can't a woman have anything else to talk about?

I don't need a support system. I don't need a woman support team - please! I made my choices with marriage and with work and no, I don't want another woman to crib to or cry on!

I want to celebrate in being a woman - a woman who's not a wife, a mother, an employee, a sister or an aunt. I just want to celebrate being me. I want to celebrate other women too. I want to hear their thoughts that has nothing to do with the many roles they play. I want to be able to go out with a woman and have fun.

Perhaps, this outpour precipitates the arrival of a very special woman - It's a time for celebrations - but each time she comes by and leaves, I am left with the same emptiness that Delhi does nothing to heal!

I am tempted to go in and analyse Delhi women, the way they are brought up, the value for their mothers vs their Dads - - their lessons with money and spending it (two totally different things) : But I think all the analysis will just reconfirm what we already know and at the end of it all, I'll just feel a tad sadder and want to dip into some chocolate. (Yes, I blame my fat on women too!)

I believe that there is a large unconsciousness about us - one we tend to be afraid of. Perhaps because consciousness (whatever it is for you) is defined. We have means of identifying, categorizing and further defining all of that which is conscious. With the unconscious, the access path is our first hurdle. There is no clear path, tool or 'awareness'. Does that mean that we don't know it's OUT THERE?
It is there. We feel it.
For me, it's where all my fast and disappearing fat is being methodically being stored. So when I do finally get past the front door, I will be greeted by bottles of fat. But, no, let's not go into my weight loss program just yet.
Deepan and I were having trouble updating his blog on Rediff. The title, as most of you know, is 'Mind of the unmarried man'. Since he's been looking at moving to BlogSpirit and thinking of a name for his blog.
This morning, I asked him to stand in front of our bookshelf, close his eyes, think of his blog and move his fingers over the books. Having set him off on a little mission, I sat down at the table to type away at my blog. Deepan came back with 'Future Shock' and another title by the same author perhaps. I asked him if he had his eyes closed. He said, no, I don't really understand why we need to do that.
We then discussed some names in his mind - one being 'World and I' that we were both not so happy with.
So back to the study, we went, and I held him as I spoke the exercise outloud. Close your eyes, I said and then repeated about five times before he did close them and just not squint. Think of your blog and the title you will give it and then reach out to the bookshelf ( I was behind him now, raising his arms to the bookshelf) and move your fingers over your book till you feel that this is IT.
After setting him off for the second time, I stepped back and sat down on the diwan. At first, he stood there, moving his fingers over the top shelf, grumbling about how this does not make any sense. From where I sat, I went ahead and continued with my list of orders ( I can be such a general sometimes - sigh!)
Bend those knees - Don't stop at the first shelf - Explore the bookshelf - Keep those fingers moving till you find your book....
As long as I barked my orders, Deepan stood awkwardly, probably silently contemplating how he could get out of this predicament. And then I stopped, now through with the general phase, and back to being the observer.
Deepan quietened down too, moving his fingers tentatively up and down row after row. Coming back and forward, until he picked out one book.
It was titled 'Flashman and the Mountain of Light'.
Deepan opened his eyes, book in hand and asked me - now what?
I said that's it - Mountain of Light. And he stood for a moment, contemplating.
Are you sure? He asked me, I replied 'Yes, I am 100% sure' (all drama, god bless my soul)

There you have it then. Deepan's new blog at Blogspirit is called 'Mountain of Light'. I think that it's an apt name.
The Flashman series is Deepan's favorite. He's read almost all of them despite them being scarcely available here in India. Deepan's favorite vacation spot is up in the mountains. To me, he is like a beacon of light, spreading good cheer and strength of spirit whereever he goes. His blog entries sometimes are most insightful without ever being dished out as forceful advice or all-knowing wisdom.

And yes, he does have a wife who'll continue with these crazy exercises that she must have him take part in - and he will continue with the ordeals to see her all animated and smiles.

Every morning I wake up to chase after the sun. Each week I set my alarm fifteen minutes ahead the previous week's time and to no avail. Each morning, as I drive down to the park, the sun is up and smiling. After that brief encounter, it's then retreat all the way back. Out come the shades, the hats, the blinds, the shorts and t-shirts: Anything to get the sun to back off.
Summers in Delhi are as grueling as the winters and it's a serious job for the sensible Delhite.

It's been awhile since I last blogged. Way too long! Then again, perhaps not. So much is happening with and around me - there has certainly been the itch on many occasions.
Yet, there was the little matter of my subscription running out at Blog-city - one I wasn't quite ready paying for again.
And then Simon pointed me to a friend's site that used blogSpirit and I thought, well - perhaps?
Blog hopping can be a lot of fun but to me, it's a tedious process. Starting with the page design, to understanding the adminstrator interface, it's pretty tiring. I still can't figure out how to add my photo, which should ideally come above the 'About me' link.
Perhaps, readers on my blog would like some tips too. The URLs are all hidden, until you mouse over them and VOILA, they appear underlined. So feel free to mouse your way around the page. In my post, I'll probably enter my links in CAPITAL until such time that I go into the settings mode and tamper with the templates themselves - a task I am not too keen on doing.
What I like about BlogSpirit is that it lets you juggle around with the columns and titles and let's you customize it to exactly the way you want it to be. My Blog-city readers will notice that my blog's IA remains intact, thanks to BlogSpirit's open design.
The template is pretty disciplined - then again, it might be a tad refreshing for all of my readers who found my earlier design a tad chaotic and busy.
Overall, I am glad to be back! More a bit later - - I have to get to the kitchen now (something that comes hand in foot with marriage :D)