Fight In Me

Recently, the topic of marriage came up. It’s been coming up for a while now. But I have been shoving it back inside the bottle the best I can. But like a genie, once it’s out, it’s out.

The question I often end up answering is, what am I looking for in a life partner. Does he have to be tall? Well educated? Independent? Employed? And the weirdest thing is, as important as those might be to some, no one seems to ask who do I need to complement who I am?

I am looking for someone with whom I can make this world a better place for my daughters to be. Someone, who acknowledges that the world is not a fair place. Yet. But who wants to work with me to bring changes. Who doesn’t think it’s beyond my means to alter how society is at it’s core, but who knows that the very heart of society lies at home. Who knows, change begins at home. Who doesn’t relegate me to what he considers, or what this society considers, to be a woman’s job. Who doesn’t let gender roles dictate our marriage.

I don’t need someone as educated as I am, I don’t need someone who earns more than me. Or someone who can take care of my bills. Those were necessities of a time when women were not allowed to fend for themselves. When they didn’t have the right to be their own person, cast their own votes, have any say on how to shape the world in which they would raise their family. We do not belong to those times anymore, so why are our expectations tied to the realities of an outdated era?

I want someone who feels this fight in their bones, the way I do. Someone who is willing to accept there is a problem. And then willing to do what it takes, so that the future doesn’t hold the same problems. Who understands that our choices reflect and create the future of our next generation. Someone, who sees that society has an antiquated approach to most things, and doesn’t let the fear of what others will say, to rule over what he knows is right. Who doesn’t need me to help him make up his own mind.

Women don’t have the privilege of not fighting, of ignoring the constraints of this world. There is a saying in Bangla, that roughly translates to this – ghosts’ foot prints are backwards. This world is a ghost foot print, turned backwards. If we don’t push it forward, it will go back on its own. And that is a price we should not accept so easily.

So yes, it will be hard to defy what everyone thinks is acceptable. But I am looking for someone who is not afraid. Someone who knows, that this fight is worth fighting.  Who knows, it is so tempting to take the easy way, to let society and it’s norms dictate our lives, to go with the flow. But who also knows that sometimes taking The Road Not Taken is the only way to go to place that has never existed before.

First Baby Stories

Trigger Warning: Death

Dear A,

Have I ever told you about my cousin who died when she was three years old? It was the 14th of January – Shakrayne: The festival of kites. She was up on the roof, where she shouldn’t have been, trying to catch a kite, she shouldn’t have been trying to catch, and she was alone. When she fell off the roof, they rushed her to the hospital but they were too late. There was too much bleeding, too little time, too little a body. For a long time, I didn’t know about her. No one in the family talked about it. But even now, when I have heard this a hundred times already, my mother can’t stop crying when she talks about her. My mother tells me, people love their first born children differently because it’s the first child you ever held. You watch their first steps, their first words and watch their first – everything!

I have a different hypothesis though. I call it the “First Baby” feelings. It doesn’t have to be your own child for you to love a child, you know? Any baby, the first baby you have seen in your life, takes a special spot in your heart. That is your first baby. I think my cousin was my mother’s first baby, at least those three years she graced this earth. I know that you know that feeling. You saw your cousin as your first baby too, right?

But lately I have been thinking about my aunt. In all these years A, she has never brought up my cousin’s name. It was her first born child. It was her first baby. It must be so incredibly hard for her. You know A, I look at your mother and I see so many people reaching out to her and I feel so guilty. I never reached out to my aunt. I understood her pain, but I never offered to talk about it. Even after you passed away, I have been so self involved in my own sadness, I have failed to see the pain in other people’s eyes. I wonder what will happen if I do bring it up to her. Do you think, she would like to talk about my cousin. Or would I attacking an old wound that doesn’t heal? I don’t know A.

You know, I have a first baby too! He is the most beautiful baby in this world. A, I can’t even imagine anything happening to him. I don’t know how your mother does it, or how my mother does it, or my aunt or any parents/ guardian – how can they let a tiny person hold so much of their love? How can they sleep without fear that something bad will happen? How can they protect a baby against their own fears and negativity without being overprotective? And how can they live when that baby is gone? A, that baby is my heart. I never knew how much love my heart can hold. My grandfather used to say, that love increases vertically. You love your kids more than you love your parents. I never understood that, until now. I love my parents, my family, but that baby is so special. But you already know that, don’t you A. After all you had your first baby too.

Did you think about him A? Did your heart expand and hurt while you thought of him. Did you think this world wouldn’t be a better place without you for him? That there is this form of love only you can give him? I know, you know everything A. But this time, listen. Sometimes you gotta live because someone is relying on you. Because there are so many firsts you still needed to see. Because there are so many moments you needed to be present for.

Hey A, I have another brilliant idea. Why don’t you look out for my cousin up there, and I’ll look out for your first baby! And someday, when we meet again, we can exchange and relive those moments? You’ll do that for me, won’t you A? You know I will.

Love,

With A Secret To Tell

Tell me a secret.

There is none.

People are too complex a creature to live without secrets.

What if I have a secret I can’t tell?

I believe there is always one such person in this world that you can trust with one of your secrets. Just one. A perfect stranger who leaves with a part of you.

Does it have to be a stranger?

No, but if it’s a secret you can’t tell, strangers do make the best candidate.

If I was a stranger that you met for the first time, what secret would you share?

Hmmm…. I would tell you, I never cry.

That’s not a secret.

It is if you don’t know the reason why. Now your turn.

I would tell you growing up was hard.

Hard, as in??

No, no second questions. That’s the rule of sharing secrets.

Hey, you don’t get to make rules!

Then I am not up for sharing.

Fine. I love and hate my parents, sometimes both at the same time.

I hate that my brothers always rely on me.

I would like to be proposed at a beach. Sandy, windy with diamonds of course.

Is that the hint?

No second questions! Rule, remember?

Ah you did that to get back to me. Fine, I would tell you I have loved only once.

I never forgot my first love.

Didn’t forget or didn’t get over?

Isn’t it the same thing?

No remembering is normal. No one can truly forget. Not getting over means you would choose him again.

I think it is the same thing.

Who was your love?

Violating the third question rule.

There is no third question rule.

There is. It comes right after the second question rule.

Ok, I don’t believe in love.

Should you be saying that to me?

I thought you are a stranger, stranger.

I am a stranger, am I not? Fine then, why would I care?

Your turn. Secret?

I don’t want to hear anymore secrets.

Why not, stranger?

Probably because we are not strangers. And if we are not strangers than sharing secrets is not easy.

Exactly.

Wait, so you agree with me? Was this all about making a point? Were you making your secrets up?

I thought we are not sharing secrets anymore.

So you are not going to answer that?

It’s a secret. But I will tell you this, I think secrets are like burial grounds. They are best left alone, at the bottom of somewhere. Don’t go digging for them. You won’t like what you find. And that is an honest secret of life.

I’ll keep that under consideration.

You do that.

Knowing there are secrets you won’t ever tell is a little scary. It’s like I’ll never know pieces of you.

Secrets are pieces of other people. You don’t want them anyways.

I like that way of thinking way better.

Good.

So no more secrets?

No more secret telling.

Sounds like a plan to me!

Advice To My Baby Brother

Dear Baby Bundle,

I can already see you crinkling your nose at me, thinking why on earth I would call you that. But the first time I saw you wrapped tightly, that’s the only thing I could think of. I remember when my aunt transferred you into my arms, you didn’t even wake up to look at me. I, on the other hand, couldn’t look away. I had of course seen your pictures before I met the twenty-eight-day-old you in person. But I fell in love with you a week later when holding you safely sleeping in my arms, I closed me eyes. I could feel my arms growing heavy, but there was a peace in my heart I just wasn’t ready to relinquish. But then I had to leave to go back to school, and I thought I was leaving something so precious behind.

The next time I saw you again, you were a one and a half year old boy with a mission. You wanted to walk everywhere, hold the world on the tips of your finger. Your eyes were wide, taking the world in, and you ran as if the world wouldn’t wait for you to grow up. I loved seeing you run – I have never seen kids run on tiptoes. But you woke up every day and showed me something new. The last time you were just a baby. But now I can totally see the baby boy in you. You fearless, fearless little guy. I loved hearing you laugh. Oh, how you would laugh when I twirled and tickled you. I tried to hold onto you, but you were never the one to sit quietly on my lap. In fact the only time I got to hold you was when you woke up from sleep and was groggy. But as soon as your grogginess left, you were back on your feet, chasing anything and everything and most often nothing at all.

In the few weeks I was with you, I gave up trying to take a partially decent picture of the both of us. I have started making videos instead. I hope when I go back, these would make me laugh. I know they are not enough. Nothing can capture your vivacity, or mischievousness or your perfect smile. On a side note, though, I do love watching you cry. You have actual tears! And beautiful eyelashes. Oh my baby brother, you wait. There would be jealous girls around the world when they would look at your long lashes. My aunt laughs when I say that, but I am quite serious.

Although I have been teaching you to say SaSa or Sabu, the closest you have come to call me is nothing. I don’t think you even know your own name. I am trying to teach that to you as well. The last part is not going as smoothly as I would like. The only thing you love to say is your ABCs. I bet you would be the son my aunt would boast of. Has anyone ever seen a kid who loves alphabet? In fact the only way to feed you is to play the ABC song or Super Why. I am learning to zone out the episodes. As much as I love you, there’s no way I am subconsciously memorizing Super Why dialogues.

My mother tells me I am fascinated by every mundane thing you do because you are the first baby I have seen grow up. May be she is right, may be not. All I know is, Bundle, you are this perfect package of a baby and I love you. I am writing this in hopes that someday you will be old enough to read this and know what a special baby you are in my life. But I am also writing this to offer you some of my observations.

First I want you know, the life you live is a privileged one. Do not begrudge or even take this life for granted. Embrace the opportunities you have, but remember Baby Bundle to be considerate of those who do not share your fortune. Be aware of the world, the society you live in and be a participant to bring positive changes. Always know what you stand for and what you stand against. Bundle, its easy to raise your voice or fists, but first learn to raise yourself from the constrictions your own thoughts. Learn to open your mind to possibilities and risks. All the best things in life come from taking a leap. Remember, don’t judge people for there is so much you don’t know and don’t ever attach labels. People are so much more than just mere labels. Always Bundle, talk to little girls with care and young ladies with respect. Everyone you meet will tell you to not carry your heart on your sleeves, but don’t listen to them baby brother of mine. Rather be trusting, giving than callous and cold. Never be domineering. Apologize when you are wrong, apologize for the wrongs done to others around you. You won’t go wrong with apologies; they do not make you weak. Love with all your heart Bundle, and do everything you do with passion. Be sensitive. Be realistic. Don’t let the world step on you and don’t step on others on your way to grasp power. Be the kind of boy, this sister of yours can be proud to raise.

I will always love you,

Your affectionate sister.

May be I am blessed

I am blessed,

For I have never been to the city you lived in,

Never set me eyes on the skylines of the city in which you died.

I have left behind the city where we grew up,

There is nothing here to tie my thoughts back to you.

May be that’s why I can laugh sometimes,

Lose myself in front of a world I can only touch peripherally.

But I can’t help think of your parents.

What do you think they do as they walk pass your room?

Or your friends who cross the front of your house each day,

I am blessed I am so far apart

I can manage to forget even for a moment,

That you are gone.

But the people who live everyday

In the places you won’t ever go back to again

Are the ones who hurt the most.

I just wish I didn’t have to count my blessings this way.

Fear What We Love

I have been thinking these days, more often than not, what I am truly seeking. What am I heading off to do and most importantly where did I start? Once there was definite sense of what I wanted from life. But the more I ponder, the more I realize I won’t ever get those things because a part of me is actually blocking me from it.

I want love, the kind of love they write about in books. I want friendship to guide me all my life. I want a family and a home to belong in. I want to have purpose, the fulfillment of a life lived to the fullest. But the more I want, the more I close myself in my own sphere. A part of me fears these wants of mine. What if they don’t come true? What if I don’t find the fulfillment I expect from them? What if I am left with a broken heart or worse – a broken trust? Isn’t it easier to just imagine a world where everything neatly falls into place? Isn’t it harder to actually go and make it happen?

May be it is just me or may be not. May be everyone I meet has this one thing they want above all others and yet their fear is stopping them from reaching for it. May be we all go around pretending we are not bothered by how much that fear controls us. But do any of us truly know how to let that fear go?