Stars above me, fire within me

I have this silent rage that makes me restless inside

On face I am calm, confident and carry a smile

I try to hide, I laugh it and keep it aside

It crawls back to me, tells me to sort otherwise it will pile.

The life in my city is super swift, super fast

The sound, the lights and the thousands of people around,

They make me feel lifeless, hollow and empty, alone in a land so vast

The happiness is lost somewhere or still hiding, waiting to be found.

As I leave the crowd, the silence in countryside calls me aloud

Tells me that these are my roots, the roots of my soul

Brings back my smile, my heart beat make a normal sound

Make me wonder relevance of my life in this world, question my role

On one side is this city with building oh so tall!

On the other side lies a sky with stars shining so bright

The artificial world around makes me feel so small

If I could run away from the city, I just always might!

But I know I miss the city after a certain point

Because that’s my life, where I belong

Live in the moment, the words echo from every joint

And with a smile and a solution I sing my lullaby song

Today I sleep, with a smile as thousands of stars blanket me

No lights around but still I shine so bright

They make me feel blessed, they make me feel free

With a wish that they stay with me forever, I hug them tight!

(Written during a visit to a small village in South India. Cheers to random thoughts keeping me alive)

"The Delhi Girl" Syndrome (Part 1)

Question: “Hey, where are you from?”

While I have been asked this question many a times at many places by a variety of people in a variety of manner, I am always quiet surprised by the kind of reaction my answer gets. There is something about Indians trying to know where the other person is from. And my answer to this question being “DELHI”, you should not be surprised, gets the most amazing and weirdest reactions.

The first time I experienced this in person was in 2009. Well, I had experienced it many a times before as well, but this was when I faced the reaction in person. Generally the situation in which this question had been popped on me was where my interaction with the person was only for a few minutes, typical places being airports, resorts, and railway stations etc. But in 2009 as I went on my first ever stay out of Delhi alone, I experienced and lived the tag of being a “Delhi Girl” for three whole months.

In the city of Patna when the people I was about to live my life with as a paying guest for next 3 months gave me a LOOK on my reply, I got the first shock of my life. I was 21 years old. And this being my first ever living outside Delhi (yes yes, I am born and brought up in Delhi) came as a shock to me. There was a sudden change in attitude towards me and everyone around was attempting to make me realize how much cooler they are. I was very confused. For start, I didn’t see any difference between me and them at all. Also, the confusion hailed from the fact that I failed to understand the logic of being from Delhi, and that too a “Delhi Girl” made me any different from the other team mate I had (except for the fact, she was from America, and a Korean by origin).

And there I was at 21 struggling with what difference does it make if I am from Delhi and here I am 26 writing this story from a small town in Himachal Pradesh still struggling with “Oh! You are a Delhi Girl” attitude. Nothing has changed in this regard while I have experienced the same reactions, even worse at various places. I am still confused and I still fail to understand what I should do about it.

Over the past 5 years, I have traveled. From Patna, to Singapore, to Ohio to Texas, Seattle, Orissa, Kolkata, Gujarat, Haryana, New York… cities and towns, villages and even smaller settlements. And my interactions with people in these places and their reactions to my being a “Delhi Girl” can be categorized in the following two kinds:

•        The Haters: I call the people in this category as the ones who look at Delhi with the eyes of envy. Typically educated and informed, they either want to be a part of Delhi or they simply cant understand why their cities cant be any cooler. I mean, I love Delhi, yes! But I think that does not negate the fact that every city has its own charm. But, coming back to these people. A lot of them are my friends by the way now. But they describe to me a very different version of how I see myself.  For them a girl from Delhi is a brat who not only over-shows how she is way cooler and knows everything but also has a sense of superiority, which lacks any knowledge. Basically, a girl who has no brains but thinks she has it all.  The situation is so worse at times that as soon as people hear me being from Delhi, they stop recognizing anything I do as authentic and having any substance. There is a sense of discomfort along with becoming blind and deaf to anything I do and being from Development sector, I find myself in worst situation. My personal experiences have made me hear things like these: “Oh, you are from Delhi, we should keep a distance”, “oh, Delhi..hmm..ok” “ohhhh, Delhi? Hahh” While gestures and actions speak louder then words, sometimes the words are strong enough to leave no stone unturned for me to get into an uncomfortable situation. 

•      The Lovers: These are those people who adore anybody who comes from Delhi. They welcome anyone with open arms after knowing they are from Delhi and always try to show how they are somewhere linked to Delhi. “Oh, my uncle’s aunt’s son’s daughter is living in Delhi (in reality: Gurgaon)”, “I have been to Delhi..(like some 8-10 years ago) etc.. and While they are surely adorable set of people, they also try to tell you how cooler they are. Sometimes, I have ended up getting marriage offers from this category people (they want someway get connected to Delhi).

I am personally, amused by both Lovers and Haters but it is the Haters who are more difficult to mold themselves and break the image they have of Delhi. They have developed a stereotype based on one or two girls from Delhi they have met in person (who, by the way are not even originally from Delhi but have studied in Delhi or something).. To be brutally honest, I have seen majority of girls around me also falling in this category and I realize that the image these people have build of girls from Delhi isn’t wrong totally. Stereotypes after all are built by experiences and they obviously have had their encounters with the typical Delhi girls (I hate that term, though, but still). Well, I struggle at times but the walls that are built around me based on my city make it difficult for me to function in my work life. It is a challenge I face every single time I am out of Delhi, in Orissa or even in Boston (I have an amazing Boston story to tell, but that for later).

I am breaking stereotypes and I like it. I am a Delhi girl but I am moldable, I am flexible in the kind of lifestyle I live and I owe my education and my upbringing at home for this. I also feel that a lot of girls from Delhi are like me but we are overshadowed by the ones who carry a good for nothing attitude. (I am not trying to demean anyone but this is the truth!!)

Success in changing attitude of people has been huge. I have made some great friends who have realized I am not even an inch of the image they carry in their heads and some of them love me for doing that. On the other hand, I thank them for opening my eyes to a whole new world of “how people see Delhi girls” and even “how I see Delhi girls”.. Yes, at times, they are dumb but in this era of movement and swiftness, we shouldn’t tag anyone based on the city they live in.

(Cheers to breaking stereotypes! I am in process of researching this whole issue and definitely, there are many angles to it.. Read later for more)

Loose roots or loose your roots

The old Banyan tree that stands on the corner of the road,

Tells me a story wise and untold.

The smell in the air and the soil on the ground seem familiar to me,

I feel glad standing there, I feel I can breathe, I feel free..

As I walk through the sides of the old village road,

The tree is intrigued to see my different expressions unfold.

On one side of the road leading to the village is a small house,

There sits a man, with his radio on and eyes shut,

His wife, the woman, mops the floor, cooks the food fast as a mouse,

That’s not a new story, a story of every home, house, hut.

But what amazes me is the other side,

With a big building some six floors tall and painted new

It’s a different world I see on a different kind of ride,

With women still the same, its too old yet different a view.

The big house is done, yet we are the same,

Clothes change, values don’t, rigid we are even if we get a new name.

I stand beside the years old tree and question myself how and why,

It’s mindboggling, with no answer even when too hard I try.

I realize as I touch the long stems turned roots of the tree,

Are we moving too fast or should we call it getting free.

A friend told me once that old values are rigid and they bind,

They delay progress acting as hurdles towards our goals.

I see them intact, I cant see the change how hard I try to find,

What has changed is the cover, when we wanted a change of roles.

People want multistory, they want big cars and assets all,

But the sad part remains, as life issues still crawl.

Women still run like the mice, they still are unsure

Is getting assets, TV and fridge the only cure?

Why are we loosing our community roots and turning towards cities,

The thought makes me panic, instead of creating any ease.

Who decides what values to keep and what assets to value more?

Who decides what will work, will sustain and who keeps the score?

Some say change is good, I agree

But what if change makes us more bound than making us free.

I see the tree and I wonder deep again,

Are these roots a symbol for strength and being on the ground?

Are we heading towards any gain or in for much more pain?

Are we on the right track or is it the destination we have found?

My mind flutters, the tree tries to ease me down,

“You think too much”, it says as I am about to frown.

The journey has just started and its heading towards a goal,

Everything will find a direction and yes, you will find your soul.

I look inside my heart, rootless and raw,

I feel a pain shoot up, its as if my two sides I just saw

One side of me that wants to still be on the ground,

The other side which is there is hollow yet flies around.

My mind and heart debate starts again as I try to question my life,

Black and white, good and bad, who decides which is the right side.

I close my eyes and let the sounds around fade away in air,

I feel soulless and its not fair.

But then, am just a bud waiting to spread my petals around,

My identity isn’t lost, its still yet to be found.

With questions in my mind and a heart filled with hope,

I begin my journey towards my work, I walk down with a smile down the slope!

Go find your Mahatma!

In the year of 2007, I was strolling in this bookstore and happen to lay my hands on a book by RK Narayan by the name “Waiting for Mahatma”. I had just started working in the field of development and while I was on a journey to pursue my passion as my career, I was always looking for inspiring stories that would make my passion grow. While the book described one of the stories of the great legend that Mahatma Gandhi was, for me it made a lot of difference as I started to search my Mahatma.

I have always believed that there isn’t anything called as an idol for me. I don’t believe in the concept, like I don’t believe in ideal. And so, for me to tag one person as  ‘Mahatma’, was coming out to be very difficult. I often used to sit down and just rewind my life to experience the different times of life where I had felt inspired. Who helped me, who made me feel wow, who made me believe in myself, who made me want to do things more passionately, the questions were unending. And thereby, a lot of faces popped in and popped out.

Somehow, I came to the realization that I am definitely not that kind of person who would have a role model. I was inspired by my father’s hard work, my mother’s passion for people’s happiness, that Hindi teacher at school who made me confident about myself, my school principle who made me believe in commitment to ones responsibilities, my college teacher who made me realize that you are ok to have your favorites.. The list was unending. Everyday I would add one person to the list who had inspired me in someway or the other. But the problem was that nomatter how hard I tried I could not figure out that one person I would call my role model, my Mahatma.

And then the bulb lit! I came down to understand that the phrase “Go find your Mahatma” had more to do with getting inspired than with who inspires. Over the past few years, I have met many people while my travel from small villages in corners of the country to other nations and multi national people. There have been those homemaker women trying to find a position in their own homes that have inspired me. So has that one man who was trying to bring awareness for masses through community media even at the age of 75. And I have learnt and got inspired from many. Today, when I hear the phrase “Go find your Mahatma”, I feel excited because the wide range of people that have played Mahatma for me at various stages of my life have made my passion for my work even more stronger. They have made me realize how important it is for me to stay afloat and keep the battle going.

Its 2013, and while my trip to Ahemadabad I recalled how Gandhi and his life had inspired me in my past many years of working with people. The anger and impatience was dealt much better, the thinking about last first helped and the back to basics concept kept me solving complex problems. I realize how different people have shown me different angles to life and how it has made me know myself more, know the situations in more depth. I realize, how I have grown, have developed. 

And as I walk down today, I look around and get inspired every second of my life. Trust me, go find your Mahatma and stay Inspired! 

Why a SON always matters? Well, Almost always!

Picture this: A North Indian Delhi based Brahmin family, the eldest son of the 7 children and his three daughters. Does it ring a bell in your head? A typical Indian scenario since decades has been that the son needs to have a son to carry the family heritage, family name ahead and when a situation like this arises, you can imagine the plight of the woman who gave birth to these three girls, the plight of the eldest son who is constantly reminded of how terrible it is that he doesn’t have a son and how cursed he is to have three daughters.

This is a story of my life. I am the second daughter of the three in this situation. This is also a story of my parents, my dad the eldest son in the family of 7 children (4 brothers, 3 sisters). This is a story of my family, relatives around who constantly remind my parents how unhappy they are (which they never see). And, over and all this is a story of those hundreds of women and men I meet on streets, corners and villages in India who show me the pity face as they come to know that we are three sisters.

My dad, the eldest son of the house has always been the one who looked after the needs of the other children since childhood. He started a job pretty early because he was told that he has to be the help when his sisters marry, when his brothers need to establish themselves. Born in a family of a railway clerk and a housewife hailing from Haryana, settled in Delhi, my father stepped into the employment sector as soon as he graduated. He often tells me how he used to do petty tasks in small shops even when he was in school just to get petty cash for his expenses, afterall a railways job for my grandfather couldn’t feed 7 kids. I really respect my grandfather for making those 7 children stand on their feet and live a prosperous life today, but the whole ideology of having 7 kids without the resources to feed them sounds crazy to me. Anyhow, so yes, my dad got into a job, changed jobs often, got married and yes, started his own business. From a small pigeon hole rented place in a small lane in Delhi, the journey he has taken to reach to a industry and export market in scientific instruments has been inspiring. Well, we can discuss that story some other time. For right now, lets join the dots.

So yes, he gets married, has three daughters over a span of 9 years with one miscarriage (a boy) before the third daughter arrived. And now, its been 30 years since his marriage and 23 since the miscarriage but till date all my grandmother loathes about is the fact how the 7 month fetus wasn’t born in this world is a sign of how unfortunate my parents are. We are three sisters, raised with the best of everything. My friends often call me names: “the pampered one”, “the daughter of a millionaire (while we aren’t one really, but still)”, the “lucky one” etc. And though I hate it many times, I really love it when I look at majority of my immediate relatives who think that God wasn’t kind on my parents. We are a family of educated (atleast literate), working, prosperous individuals settled in Delhi since more than 60 years. And well, that is exactly why they look crazy to me when they talk sons and moksha linkages.

We as daughters never felt that we have an incomplete family. We have our shares of arguments and regular day to day fights but we respect our parents, our mother for bringing that change in our homes, for making girls matter. I have seen my father from rags to riches. From the day (as my mother describes) when I was about to be born and he didn’t had to money to take my mother to a doctor to the day today where I find myself sneezing and going to a doctor. We have been cared of, pampered but taught the ways of life to be dealt ourselves. I am (like my sisters) one who loves indulging in fashion and food and style as much as I enjoy working with women & children in the extreme situations in India, sitting down with them, understanding realities and helping build partnerships in development from the communities. For me, both give my life a high, strong enough that it can challenge the high anyone feels after having any drug.

So, well educated, best of facilities, freedom and yes, the courage to fight our own battles, we as daughters have never felt that we are being discriminated with respect to our gender. Well, of course being in India, our parents are constantly worried about our safety but the fact remains that when I look at girls in Indian villages and towns, and I look at myself, I find a gap which to me is filled as I look at my relatives and families around. So, yes, my grandparents don’t love us. They do show that they feel for us, but when it is to choose between me (loving caring and respecting granddaughter) and my uncle’s son (brat, careless and disrespecting grandson), you know who they pick. As a child, it used to break my heart but as I grew and realized how it has been and it will be, I started to understand how I wont let it be in the next generation. My parents, pioneered the change in our home and yes, I believe I will be the one (we sisters) carrying the torch ahead.

We all hear stories of gender discrimination starting with children (even before birth) in families, but the important thing is to not let them be jus stories, but make them path breaking reasons for change. My uncle tells my dad that he should not expand his business because he has no son. Well, I have always been a part of his business and we three have told him “the day you want to retire, let us know and we will take it from there”, but in our families, that doesn’t count. “You are a daughter, who goes to others house, who cant do this business”, my grandmother often comments. Of the many comments, this one has always been a fuel to my anger, but yes earlier it used to help me blast and now it helps me strengthen my enthusiasm to not let it happen ahead of me, when I have children.

My buas and chachas (paternal aunts and uncles), nana and nani (maternal grandparents) etc all are a party to this You Must Have a Son Disorder. My parents tell me how when my mom got her sterilization done after the third daughter was born (which was not for a son desire, but we can discuss that later), both my grandmothers (paternal and maternal) had not spoken to them for a long time. Eldest son and no male heir?? Are you insane? Was the reaction they got. Today, when they look at us, they tell us how happy they are because we are trying to tell the world a story of how girls are at par, how gender is not how one should be measured and how, they never cared and they never still do what the people say.

A typical reaction I always get from women in Indian villages is this: “oh my god, oho! You don’t have a brother? That’s really sad.” And yes, it amuses me to the core. I mean, just imagine me sitting with 20 women and discussing gender disparity and discrimination issues in a village in Haryana and the first question they ask me during rapport formation is this. I do take it as a starting point to my discussion but then, this is a story of every village every place I travel to in India. And yes, though I am strong enough to challenge the mindset, I feel helpless when I think of those thousands and thousands of girls who are the future flag bearers and who are being moulded in this mentality.

While I was on my journey abroad for many months, I remember the day I was about to travel. My grandparents had called me to tell me how they feel proud of me. They told me this: “You are like a son to the house”! hahh! Was my reaction as I chuckled and remarked, “Please don’t call me a son, I am a daughter and yes, I am proud of the fact that my parents respect it. I am a daughter, not a son”!

Our society suffers from chambering syndrome. The girl who explores, travels, gets best of education and is a flag bearer becomes a BOY like! We sisters, all in the same system often laugh our lungs out thinking of the times we face it in our homes, leave aside the world. My eldest sister has a baby girl and as she reinforces how she wont let gender impact her child, I often think of the hard times she will face but am hopeful that one day she will achieve what she wants.