Finding Peace in Adventure

The more I have tried to restrict myself, the more life has pushed me. In terms of limits- be it geographical or inner. And each push has demanded a lot of pull from within. With each push it bombarded my assumptions and with each pull I busted my own tyranny.

And finally what it leaves me with? A better view. Everytime.

Yes, each time after the storm has passed, it is unexceptionably lovely to see my wrecked barge wobbling on the waves- a soggy body, drenched in water and blood. And I record on my timeline- I survived that too.

This journey of journeys has become so gratifying because I see that there is no way I wouldn’t have undertaken it. Even if I chose not to, this nasty woman called Life had been stretching her arms with a baton up my arse.

There is so much peace in adventure….

Sharing with Mom

I don’t share everything with my parents, like most of us. I have strongly believed in not doing so.
It started initially when I was growing up in a conservative set of family background, where children are not expected to 'share' but 'follow' their parents.

This took form of a habit and later when I started to stay away from them, this further shaped up in the 'need-to-know' based conversations.

Furthermore, I started to tell them only the best things or the favorable incidents and they were absolutely ignorant about the dark phases I was going through in life.

Until one day-

Some years back, I met one of my friends in Mumbai, who happens to be a mother of a girl of my age. While I was sharing a patchy experience with her, she asked, "So what did your Mom say about this". I told her that I hadn't told Mom anything about this as I didn't want to get her to get worried.

And then, her reply to this reversed my ideology.

She said, "I think what you are doing is very wrong. You are depriving your mother of the right she has as a mother over you. I'd feel very unfortunate if my daughter doesn’t share her heart out with me thinking I’ll get hurt? Ill be terribly hurt to see that she doesn’t chooses me to be a part of her life. It is gut trenching to note that whatever I gave birth to doesn't believe in me."

The thought hit me in my head. I had been terribly wrong and careless while trying to act right and careful.

On that incident onwards, I gradually (on test basis) formed this habit of sharing things with Mom to observe her reaction. And I found that she very well understood the fact that her daughter’s life wouldn’t be simple always.

She had concerns about me not living a ‘perfect life’ but I deliberately started involving her in my everyday chores and helped her see my definition of ‘perfect’.

I started discussing many things that helped me see her point of view, see her as a woman, not just as a concerned mother.

Consequently, I found that the more I shared my f'cked up stories with her, the more she believed me and the more she supported me. The second observation was- she too got rid of her habit of showing me only the rosy side, and her emotions became barer. 

Since the experiment was successful, sharing became important and a regular practice and so does the level of trust. Now, even if I happen to go to eat a buffet at Bombay Dreams Restaurant, I send her photo of my thali. I try an overtly sexy dress, I send her pictures from trial-rooms.

​Nothing great has happened to my life but just that clearing up mist from my window has made me see that my mother has always stood by me. 

From Loneliness to Lion-liness

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When someone asks me: Hey..How are you doing?

I reply- In every way.

I am like a new lion in the circus. A lion that had been caged for years, out of jungle and out of wildness. I have recently come back to civilization (to find the true uncivilized Me) and am so excited with everything that I get to see or do. 

At circus, they ask me- Hey, can you stand on the stool? Without knowing how to, I tell them that I can. And I do it somehow. They come up with the new suggestions “Hey, can you twist your whiskers while displaying your molars”. “Hey, can you work on part time basis as a leopard”. To which, I invariably reply "Yasss".

Some women were giggling the other day when I was doing a pro-bono overtime for a jaguar. One of them commented- You look so much non-liony when you do that, but I didn’t let that bother me. I slept well that night and the next morning climbed up the stage and followed the ring master’s instructions, carried visitors on my back and let them click selfies, looking at the crowd around cheering.

They laughed their asses off the other day when they asked me if I can be the ring-master and I said “Yes”.

I sometimes get tempted to gulp down the mushy head of the Chinese ring master when he puts his head inside my mouth during the morning show but then I remind myself of ‘giving myself some time before I can be myself’. I had been locked inside a cage for years and haven’t tested my wild-side yet. I don’t know if I can attack, or kill, or chase (or run away).

The life back then in the cage had been so un-happening that for the first few days here, I couldn’t kick down the rabbits they put in my cell for diner. I had gotten so much used to eating meat that I had forgotten to hunt.

I have been so much trapped into my loneliness that that I almost lost my lion-liness.

Every morning when I am getting ready- I have only one thing in my mind “Let the show begin”.

Yesterday a jackal made fun of me seeing me burn my tail while jumping out of the burning rings. That was then, I picked him by his collars and openly intimidated- “I may have forgotten how to hunt but I still know how to roar….”