Confusing Identities

Part 1:

Being stupid is smart, sometimes time saving and it helps circumventing ‘brainy folks’ and their conversations in a polite way. I get bugged of people real quickly and I struggle with conversations after few good lines if I don’t share the same wave length and I find it difficult to dismiss them. I with multiple personalities, consciously put on diverse masks and did sound modulation after a quick assumption of the person I just met and figured their interests from the talk they initiated. I was actually pulled into discourses by friends and family. I didn’t want to exhibit myself as an anti-social, I was fashioned and brainwashed to get into people’s good books and since I was too lazy and underprivileged to challenge their ideologies I performed my roles with utter sincerity. Shakespeare’s Seven Ages played at the backdrop of my mind every time I put a fresh mask, a dissimilar smile and burnt my mind with the topics they came up with. I desperately wanted to get out of them. Well, I managed to project my true self after few years of nominations for the best child artist.

My parents are from upright families, they are educated, they belong to this category of “modest-gentle-class people” and sadly I’m their only child to inherit all the family traditions. I grew into someone with no extraordinary qualities and I got bored of this ‘non-extraordinariness’. I started projecting the accurate self- disorganized bedroom, uncivilized ways of eating and sitting, average student at school, a tan skinned curly haired ghost. I don’t exactly remember the day they termed me “un-conventional” but with that tag I broke few rules, family traditions and splendid legacy they continued. Wait. I was still the “good girl” for odd reasons, they fancied me. Then it happened, my neighbourhood started playing chinese whispers and after few impatient years of my disappearance, my image in the arena went through serious alterations. They dragged me into bloody conversations. Seven Ages started playing at my backstage in a brasher mode and I dug out all those historic masks and gestures I buried inside my sack. Definitely few more nominations.

I wanted to escape things, deliberate rejection, being stupid was the only way out. I said the stupidest of things when people asked me suggestions, gave a genuine blank face when I had some clue of what they spoke, Idon’tknows instantly jumped out of my mouth when questions flew to me and gave a totally naïve attitude when they quizzed to figure me out. I certainly did a good job. *pat on my shoulders*. Some started to ignore my existence while some others suspected my certificates. Honestly speaking I enjoyed being stupid. I learnt new things, to critique and think rather than swallowing, the art of listening and the bliss of a neutral stand. You give another person an opportunity to express his viewpoints without the horrors of judgment (yeah feedbacks are necessary but not always needed), you give him time and an ear and a noble feeling and you give him an opportunity to transport the genuine self without inflections and modifications. Today I don’t get nominations, I’m stupid (Hopeful of shedding it too. Someday. ) and that saves a whole lot of energy, time and annoying conversations. And people who took struggle to teach me, there are no masks and I’m still a good listener and student and they get glimpses of their lectures and that makes them hopeful. And I guess Seven Ages stopped playing.

 Recently I had a long conversation with my Aunt’s friend, he spoke of all the things that amused me- Poetry- Rafi’s Gazals-Cuban Revolution-Romance- Travelling-Food and I tell you I was flattered, I had no masks inside my pocket. After few minutes of his lecture, I started talking, I poured my brain and heart out and he listened patiently and then he said “You’re a Kamla Das line I should say. It’s good but you know rather dangerous, you’ll be an outcast, being a woman you should never project…”, I wanted to scream, tell him “ **** you”. I said Thank you this time. Walked Off. (Improved?)

Part 2:

I was talking over phone to a friend, usual gossips.
F: So, what did you do today?
D: Cooking, little cleaning left.
F: *Laugh*
D: Whaaat?
F: What happened to all modern philosophies, feminist theories, travel plans and revolution? You’ve become one typical bhabhi Devu. Marriage plans?
D: ( I don’t want to act stupid. Shedding it too Devu? I guess) You know what you gave me an idea to write something. I have a blog. I’ll text the link. Ok?

I’m confused? Are they confused?

When did modernity got reduced to jeans and t-shirt, lipstick and pop music? How do I become an ‘exploited woman’ wanting for liberation if I cook the food I like and clean my house? If I sit at home and do ‘nothing productive’ is synonym to a 22 year old waiting to get into marriage market?
I feel a lot of people confuse being modern with being western. Everything western need not be modern. I can be as modern as a party going easy go lazy girl of London when I’m home wearing silken skirt and jingling anklets cleaning my home. I’m modern in my own sense putting coconut oil on my hair and taking a hot water bath. I’m a feminist while cooking food I like and giving a head massage to my Dad. I’m progressive but I guess I’m rooted as well. I want to see new people, read and write, travel and eat delicious food but I guess I want to talk to Beena every evening, take my Dad for movies and visit the temple with my Ammamma to make her happy. I think of all the places I want to see and the books I want to read and make accurate plans which may or may not work, I’m happy, nothing else matters. Lastly, marriage. Like Amitab Bachchan says in ‘Piku’ “Marriage is a low IQ decision. You can get married but it should have a purpose.” I don’t right now see any need to get married, I’m in full harmony with myself. In case I find a purpose and an equally cracked one, I’ll think of marriage, then.( Did I answer you F?)

I don’t want Seven Ages to play again. I don’t want to act and impress people again. I don’t want to be a Willy Lowman confused between lies. I saw myself harassed between ‘identities’, often conflicting and I struggled with it. Problem being the non-acceptance or 'vulgarity' as they say of the real-self in the society…but at times I need to reassure them, Beena and Dad. No. Chill. I tell you it’s a horrendous task. The constant lying created assorted identities which I was so ignorant of but they knew exactly when to pull the right mask. Bizarre it was. Not anymore! I cannot!