The Battle of Belonging

"Howmuchever I did not want to belong in Mysuru, it was still my own. It was and will forever be a part of me, mine. I can only escape from it geographically, but it will forever and till eternity, remain in my heart, as an indelible, inescapable part of my identity and personality."

Caveat: The following blog piece is a deeply personal and reflective essay. Read only if you have the mental capacity to handle the trauma dumping.

NRIs have this thing called ABCD, it stands for American-born confused Desi. This pithy phrase very succinctly captures the confusion and the identity crisis that they experience, being a vibrant cultural minority in a foreign land.

I am not an NRI. Nor am I in foreign lands. and yet, I am going through a somewhat similar experience. This feeling of not belonging here and not wanting to belong there. The constant conflict in the mind. The two different worlds which you know will never meet - like the two shores of the sea. The eviscerating feeling of not knowing who I am, where my heart lies, what I identify as, how I should react to situations and events... constantly trying to reconcile the two ends of the spectrum. The two feelings, the two yous, the two behaviours, the difference, the split, conflict, confusion. Who am i? Who is prerana?

Am I the silent, serious, career-oriented, driven, focused, straight-talking Prerana who always rebelled against her parents, teachers, friends and family, who always tried to push the boundaries and who was very sagacious and calm and mature and wanted to reach for the stars and leave mysuru behind, escape from the small-minded people and their parochial thoughts and outdated ideas... or should I qualify those attributes with a "supposedly" or "assumed"? Supposedly small-minded people; assumed parochial thoughts and outdated ideas. Supposed and assumed by me. The girl who always looked at the skies hoping to escape into the calm familiarity of its darkness, looking for a stairway out of the small town. Grasping for opportunities...

Or am I the Prerna who is excited to learn new things, the empathetic listener, always down for a chat, available for a call, hugging people, trying to belong, wanting to belong? Trying to firmly establish herself on the ground, to grasp at the grass trying to find her footing, the one who is accepting of every new culture, tradition and way of life, the one who is trying to wiggle in rather than escape out? trying to be here, now. embracing, condoning and accepting this place for what it is- warts, wounds, wonders and all. jostling in with the people and accepting and celebrating them for who they are, their thoughts, ideas, small-mindedness, and narrow thinking?

I hated that place because of what it is, and now I am trying to fall in love with this place despite what it is. And yet, I seem to have forgotten to realise that, in the heart of hearts, overarchingly, both mysuru and Jindal are the same. They may be different cultures, but the small-minded ideas remain, the narrow thoughts and othering of what doesn't fit in with the established norm remains.

That was a community-oriented life and I struggled to create a space for myself. This is an individual-oriented space and I am fighting to create a community of my own. But why?

I grew up in Mysuru, a mysuru that was in the perpetual shadow of the Bengaluru. Every single holiday I would get, we would catch the first train to Bengaluru. leaving mysuru and its lethargy and laziness behind. The joy of seeing the suburban Bengaluru slums from the window of my train seat, which heralded the arrival in the city, a city which I since forever wanted to make my own. And a city I always looked at with glinting eyes and gaping mouth. The city which had my heart, my love, my life.

The yearning for that big city, that cosmopolitan culture, that melting pot of ideas, cultures, traditions, that urban, chic, jet black and grey ad white world with tall towers and big cars and traffic-jammed streets. the endless opportunities. the vibrant nightlife. the food, the street, the big corporate hubs, the cafes buzzing with people; forever, the breweries and the sense of not being judged for sipping a drink or wearing a torn jean or hanging out with English-speaking boys.

The peacock from mysuru zoo wisting to dance under the pale blue-grey hues and occasional showers of the Bengaluru sky.

I was never happy in mysuru. Never satisfied with the city. Never got myself to like it. Those ceremonial debates about mysuru v. Bengaluru, I always took the side of Bengaluru. Not that mysuru didn't have opportunities or wasn't modern or anything... But i tried to steer clear of the modern mysuru. Tried to stay put and ply my game on the path out of the city. Like I didn't want to get distracted or enticed by whatever little wonders mysuru had to offer.

Now, I have come to Jindal. Achieved what I wanted. Reached where I thought I wanted to. Escaped, finally and successfully. And after a long drawn, draining and desiccating fight no less. That rebel in me has won the final fight. The ultimate rebellion. I wanted to leave, but they held me back, they pulled me back, they tied and tethered me back but I broke free, suffered through bruises, and endured their glare, stare and spit. Roared, screamed, and unleashed myself. and now I have left. That fight has now reached its conclusion. There's no reason to feel restless. That goal that always lingered around and directed my every step and action has been fulfilled. Years of penance, struggle, and rebellion have finally borne fruit. I have reached where I wanted to. I have done it ma. I have gotten my way. I have won against you, appa, those aunties and uncles who constantly questioned me, those people from college who tried to pull me down. I have won the battle against all of you guys... I have stayed put, my obstinacy and stubbornness have reached their end now. I got what I wanted. This is what I had prayed, starved, begged, kicked, fought and screamed for. This is it. The cosmopolitan, urban lifestyle is finally mine. Mine to live.

But.

But there is still a battle to be fought. yet another one. another fight to fight. my mind tells me to live another day. Fight this one last battle and we will see what happens tomorrow. One more fight, one more struggle, one more battle, one more. But this is a different battle. If my first fight was a Tapasya to escape, to not settle, to not remain, to leave and get out of the suffocation. This is a fight to belong. to feel like I belong, to fit in, to forget about the sky and hold on to the ground. to touch the grass, and the mud and make it my own. the battle of belonging. To settle down. to remain even if it means suffocating myself. to keep my mind open and to take in every new idea, every new experience, new feeling and culture and tradition and people. But if this is what I wanted all my life and this is what I fought for all my life, why am I continuing to fight even after having gotten what I have wanted? what is it that I seek? Why is there another struggle? I wanted this, right? More than want, I yearned for this. And now that I have it, why does the restlessness remain?

What do I do about this constant conflictual state of mind? That's a futile question to ask, to be fair to myself. Conflict, much like change is a constant. There is no escaping from conflict. sometimes it is the external conflict, sometimes it is the inner conflict. but conflict remains. And when there is none, the mind makes one. The mind is a very weird thing. It does not want to settle. It does not want to be satisfied. It wants more and more and more and better and higher. There is always a battle to be fought. Live another day, sleep another night - quite literally these days.

Then, what is the problem? if I am aware of this peculiarity of the mind, if I have always been fighting fights and waging wars, internal as well as external, shouldn't I have gotten used to them by now? Shouldn't I have gotten adjusted to the hustle now? What is it that is making me take a step back and pause to reassess everything?

I always thought of leaving mysuru as the first step to independence and freedom. Leave mysuru first and then leave India next. Explore the world, wear down those peripatetic feet, and satiate that ever-hungry mind. So having escaped mysuru, I should have, by now, embarked on my next fight. the fight for emancipation from the manacles that fate imposed on me when it made me an Indian. all of this, I had mapped out and planned out in my mind. But in my eagerness, I failed to anticipate the intermediate level. Between the fight for escaping from mysuru, where I had been born and the fight to escape into the larger world, where i wanted to live, there was this one intermediate level. I left mysuru and reached Delhi, reached Jindal. Now, I have to leave Jindal and reach new york? London? sydney? tokyo? or just the road leading up to the Supreme Court of India? But before I commence on that journey, there is one more goal to achieve. And that is to make Delhi and Jindal mine and my own. to belong here, to fight to be one among these people, to embrace them and their culture. Because, if I do not make this my own, what will I fight against when I begin my battle to move out of India? I have to first own this before I can rebel. i have to first be here before I can leave from here. I failed to anticipate that belonging here could be an entire battle in itself. But it should not be a battle... I shouldn't have to fight for anything that is already, rightfully, mine... do I? I should not have to fight to belong here. Nor should I have had to fight to leave from there. But it is what it is. The battle of belonging. and I have to make peace with it.

yours,

I.L.

JSL signs MoU with SCTEVT to train stainless steel professionals

Odisha’s State Council for Technical Education & Vocational Training today signed a Memorandum of Understanding with JSHL to promote technical education. Read more.

एका चित्रकाराचि व्यथा....... समाजा मधे कलाकार हा सर्व कामांमधे हवा असतो. रंग प्रत्येक गोष्टि मधे असतात. विचार करा आयुष्यात रंग च नसते?. आत्ता डिजिटल युग आले म्हनुन आयुष्य प्लास्टिक झाले. कैमरा नव्हता, प्रिंटर नव्हते तेव्हा पासुनचि ही कला. हि कला शिकन्या साठी ज़िद्द, त्याग, मनोबल या सगळया गोष्टि लागतात. #art #artistoninstagram #artforall #publicart #streetart #streetartindia #mumbaiurbanartfestival #mumbai #maharashtra #uttarpradesh #varanasi #dashashwamedh #namamigange #jindal #asianpaints #startindia #urbanart #pune #punestreetart #nileshartist (at Namami Gange) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoaWygAsVFE/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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Maha’s Bhiwandi Police Summon Nupur Sharma, Naveen Kumar Jindal Over Remarks Against Prophet Mohammad

Nupur Sharma and Naveen Kumar Jindal. (Twitter) The Bhiwandi police had registered a case against Sharma following a complaint lodged by a representative of the Raza Academy on May 30 PTI Thane Last Updated:June 12, 2022, 14:56 IST FOLLOW US ON: The Bhiwandi police in Maharashtra have summoned suspended BJP spokesperson Nupur Sharma to record a statement on Monday in connection with her…

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Prophet row: Maha police's summons to Nupur Sharma, Naveen Jindal over controversial comments

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Prophet row: Maha police’s summons to Nupur Sharma, Naveen Jindal over controversial comments Thane, Jun 12: Suspended BJP spokesperson Nupur Sharma and expelled BJP functionary Naveen Kumar Jindal have received summons from the Bhiwandi police in Maharashtra to record a statement in connection with her controversial comments against Prophet Mohammad, an official told PTI Thane, Jun 12:…

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Katie Britt, the junior Republican senator from Alabama, delivered the GOP’s rebuttal to President Joe Biden’s address on Thursday. Her impassioned, breathless speech — delivered at times in an ASMR-esque whisper from what appeared to be her kitchen — ended up feeling more like a rejected audition tape for a supporting role on “Grey’s Anatomy” than the hard-hitting political sparring favored by Biden’s Republican critics.

Into the late hours of the night, Rolling Stone was inundated, sometimes completely unprompted, with messages from longtime GOP operatives, right-leaning pollsters, conservative Capitol Hill staff, MAGA lawyers, and even some senior members of Trump’s own 2024 campaign absolutely torching Britt’s absurdly over-dramatic rebuttal.

“What the hell am I watching right now?” a Trump adviser asked, mid-Britt remarks.

“Creepy,” one of the Republican pollsters noted.

A lawyer working in the Trump orbit says the performance reminded them of public-access television, and a senior House congressional aide remarks that it was “cringe”-inducing to watch and likely destined to be turned into a “lame [Saturday Night Live] skit” this weekend.

“I’ll give Biden this — he at least gave a better speech than Katie Britt,” one national Republican consultant said bluntly.

(continue reading)

at the same time, the “should natives call themselves Indian?” discourse is shockingly an entirely white affair: it’s possible this has changed in the last 2 years, but for 50 years South Asian Indians have never asserted that indigenous Americans should not use the word “Indian”. I know if I suggested that (they shouldn’t because they’re “not Indian”) my dad would have slapped me upside the head, and that’s actually common: that’s a weird discursive originality

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scrolling through my old twitter, realizing i was the most annoying person in the universe circa 2012

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