I recently got some honest feedback from well-intentioned friends, about how much of my blogs were talking about "religion" and "inter-faith" issues. I am grateful for these friends, who brought me to this insight. Like throwing cold water to the face.
I looked at my blog and I was shocked.
A single, independent woman with two Masters degrees from Europe and America - and publications in the Guardian and a multi-cultural background like mine.
Yes, it would have seemed odd. Very odd.
Then I realized that I was letting that one experience, which shook my world 10 years ago, still affect my life.
Being caught in this insane 'religious' violence in India, facing a life and death situation, in 2002. My hand shakes talking about it. Seeing victims of the most inhumane atrocities in the relief camps in my beloved Delhi. Which changed my world.. and what I thought of it. I haven't talked about it since.. though it simmers in my words on my blog and other places. The festering wound of how human beings can slaughter each other in the name of "religion" and justify it. I cannot repeat the atrocities which were witnessed and are well-documented.
How my "feminist" co-worker, researching female foeticide, looked at gang-rapes of pregnant women and said, "THEY asked for it.. these people are all traitors anyways.."
That broke my back.
But like many war journalists, who witness violence first hand, there is a journey to healing.. and recognising it is the first step.
The couldnt-care less Delhiite with neon dreams and the desire to conquer space..felt in those few days that nothing one achieved or how liberal one was, mattered to those mobs.
But I decided, that I will not let this control my life anymore, without realizing how much subconsciously I still was.
I thank these amazing, insightful and honest friends for throwing the cold water in my face.. and I wake up, look at myself and wonder what became of me.
For realizing a wound, is the first step to healing it.. and sometimes honest feedback, however brutal, works like bitter medicine, long needed.
This 'freedom' of mine is a hard earned freedom. With blood, toil and passionate motivation, When I was returning to the US for my second Masters, AFTER the above experiences, I was told time and again to "get married" to some nice guy, yaar. There were plenty of options from my friends and family circle. But none took my heart.."Why do you need to do this on your own. You have the looks, brains and so forth.You can always go to grad school AND be married". But somehow, I felt repelled by the idea of planning a marriage for 'security'. Somewhere in me, the idealist persisted - and how it's brought me beautiful experiences I wouldnt want to trade for a bourgoise ring. I am NOT a bohemian libertine from any angle.. but then why does a woman need to justify her dignity and independence of spirit? Yes, I had my insecurities due to my traumatic experiences, but then who doesn't? But I didn't trade my soul or crack..but kept on believing. It maybe easy for guys who have not fought these battles, to see me with that fragile 'good-looking' face, which only shows the girl who did modeling assignments during her undergrad days - and keeps the happy smile of the Delhi girl. Which she will always be at heart.
I prefered to starve, than ask my loving and gentle ex for any financial help, when I was job-hunting. He never knew..despite being a management consultant a top-notch firm. He never knew.. when I could have asked him for gifts and job references, about how hard I worked to make ends meet during grad school and afterwards during the recession. I never asked him for the Prada bags and Gucci shoes, when he could have showered them on me.. his love was enough for me.
Someday the men will also understand, that we women have the spirits of a warrior beneath the high cheekbones.
I looked at my blog and I was shocked.
A single, independent woman with two Masters degrees from Europe and America - and publications in the Guardian and a multi-cultural background like mine.
Yes, it would have seemed odd. Very odd.
Then I realized that I was letting that one experience, which shook my world 10 years ago, still affect my life.
Being caught in this insane 'religious' violence in India, facing a life and death situation, in 2002. My hand shakes talking about it. Seeing victims of the most inhumane atrocities in the relief camps in my beloved Delhi. Which changed my world.. and what I thought of it. I haven't talked about it since.. though it simmers in my words on my blog and other places. The festering wound of how human beings can slaughter each other in the name of "religion" and justify it. I cannot repeat the atrocities which were witnessed and are well-documented.
How my "feminist" co-worker, researching female foeticide, looked at gang-rapes of pregnant women and said, "THEY asked for it.. these people are all traitors anyways.."
That broke my back.
But like many war journalists, who witness violence first hand, there is a journey to healing.. and recognising it is the first step.
The couldnt-care less Delhiite with neon dreams and the desire to conquer space..felt in those few days that nothing one achieved or how liberal one was, mattered to those mobs.
But I decided, that I will not let this control my life anymore, without realizing how much subconsciously I still was.
I thank these amazing, insightful and honest friends for throwing the cold water in my face.. and I wake up, look at myself and wonder what became of me.
For realizing a wound, is the first step to healing it.. and sometimes honest feedback, however brutal, works like bitter medicine, long needed.
This 'freedom' of mine is a hard earned freedom. With blood, toil and passionate motivation, When I was returning to the US for my second Masters, AFTER the above experiences, I was told time and again to "get married" to some nice guy, yaar. There were plenty of options from my friends and family circle. But none took my heart.."Why do you need to do this on your own. You have the looks, brains and so forth.You can always go to grad school AND be married". But somehow, I felt repelled by the idea of planning a marriage for 'security'. Somewhere in me, the idealist persisted - and how it's brought me beautiful experiences I wouldnt want to trade for a bourgoise ring. I am NOT a bohemian libertine from any angle.. but then why does a woman need to justify her dignity and independence of spirit? Yes, I had my insecurities due to my traumatic experiences, but then who doesn't? But I didn't trade my soul or crack..but kept on believing. It maybe easy for guys who have not fought these battles, to see me with that fragile 'good-looking' face, which only shows the girl who did modeling assignments during her undergrad days - and keeps the happy smile of the Delhi girl. Which she will always be at heart.
I prefered to starve, than ask my loving and gentle ex for any financial help, when I was job-hunting. He never knew..despite being a management consultant a top-notch firm. He never knew.. when I could have asked him for gifts and job references, about how hard I worked to make ends meet during grad school and afterwards during the recession. I never asked him for the Prada bags and Gucci shoes, when he could have showered them on me.. his love was enough for me.
Someday the men will also understand, that we women have the spirits of a warrior beneath the high cheekbones.
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