Category Archives: Relationships

The ties that bind and gag!!!

A Morning Ritual

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*If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

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GIRL TALK 

Girl Talk

There’s nothing like girl talk between former tomboys.

It’s dreams and drama
and nostalgia and world dominion
and yearning and alliance and fireworks
all in one.

Be a girl.
At least once in your life.

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Spring-Cleaning For The Soul

I’m surrounded by question marks, in the shape of expensive gifts from you. I’ve discarded the funny, the cheesy, the lighthearted lines like you’ve done our laughs. But what about the Parisian box of songs? La vie en rose may as well be a life of thorns. I don’t like looking at the gold memento anymore. It makes me wonder if all you were out for, was another gold rush of emotions.

I’m sitting in a gigantic suitcase full of question marks that you’ve left behind. What shall I pack? Can I just put them all in there or should I send them back? My house isn’t big enough for all the feelings I have about these things.

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3AM Maneuvers

3AM maneuvers

Our waking moments in bed were fraught with clumsy moves and clunky negotiation. But at night, long after you’d fallen asleep, I would listen to you breathe.

Do you know how many trips I took around the bed, to judge AC draft & sound? I would fine tune air and sound and light to give you perfection in sleep that I never seem to be able to bring to your waking hours.

The nights after we’d fought the worst, you’d snore the hardest, while I lay awake, failing, even in your sleep.

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Welcome To The Friendzone

Here’s something that came to me in the middle of a shower, turning up almost fully formed and demanding to be set free from my brain. I spilt the words onto my computer, edited it on the run and read it right off my screen on stage. The last time this happened, it turned into a piece that has become my calling card.

This thought has been in my head for years now. I’ve already written it as a blogpost before. Misogynist whining masquerades as desi poetry. But this piece showed up in my head just last week, whatever be its backstory and I had fun giving it life.

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*If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

 

 

You always had an option

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Suhaag Raat

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Okay 2017, I Concede. Let’s Wait It Out.

I want to write something simply because the topmost post on this blog for too long now, has been a painful memory that victimised me. I am not actually dwelling in the past. The present has had me too caught up to even think about the future, let alone the past. One major thing about the present is the books I’m reading and ‘When I Hit You’ was a part of that. Sometimes we can look back at our lives and see them in other ways, like examining old information in fresh light. Even the insights we gain may not be exactly new but the relooking allows us to establish it again, more strongly. And how can we hope to live in peace, unless our beliefs are strong?

I don’t really have much news to report. Or perhaps there is too much to say. As always, I’m a bit rusty when I start writing/sharing again after a long time. Half this year has gone and I’m coming to accept that 2017 is as difficult and brutal as 2012 was. I lost my idea of a great person. I lost a performing space and community that felt like home. In the past month I’ve lost two of my top five people. Yes, I have those or rather, had those. And perhaps, finally goaded on by what I think life was trying to tell me, I have let go of someone else I really wanted to be close to.

I do not believe men will treat me with respect and consideration for very long. I do not believe friends will want to stay true permanently, especially when they have easier or more benefit-giving relationships in their lives. I’m just not a great investment for people’s emotions and I can see that with some kind of detached clarity.

I do not want to be treated with adulation but with warmth. Yet, that is a role that falls on me. What people call ‘respect’ is putting me up on a pedestal but I cannot make them see that. And thus we come to a stalemate unless I accept that this is the way other human beings always will be.

This lesson keeps coming right back at me. You cannot make someone love you, no matter how loveable you make yourself. You cannot make a person treat you well, no matter how well you treat them. You cannot teach a person to treat themselves well, no matter how hard you wish it. And finally, you have no control over a single thing that life has or does or is. All one can do is, is try and stay grateful for the chance encounters that have brought some joy.

I’ve been tempted now and then to fall into bitter, pitch-black resentful rage. But it feels like such a dark, unwelcome place to go to, especially after the year-and-half I spent wondering if I was going mad. This also reminds me of how I got through that time – with some of these very same people who are tempting me to fall back into that place. Never mind justice, never mind what’s logical. I must not go back there for myself alone.

I’m not exactly sad because I think I’m still in some kind of numb shock. Or perhaps it’s resignation. Everything is slipping away. Everyone is hurting. Everybody is a monster, without being able to help themselves. All I can do is take one breath at a time. And wait for 2017 to be over. You be well too.

Starry nights and smoky music

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*If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

 

An Unequal Music

After he broke my iPod (and it was almost comical since he had to smash it several times and jump on it to break), and his own, he bought me a new one. This despite my never wanting to see one again. Why would I? His music taunted my lack of intelligence and I was too terrified to listen to music I used to like. He waited six months, not allowing me to buy him an iPod, not buying himself one, carrying the badge of the denied genius. Sharp at month 6, he bought one and paraded it around defiantly as if I had kept him from it. Six months, he told me proudly, six months I had decided I would go without an iPod. Six months where he taunted my lack of taste in music and when he didn’t, the empty iPod he bought me sneered. So precise and calculated.

I come from a tradition of music, of training and performing. But I have never owned a music player after that.  I have since, won back my right to listen to music I like, even as I indulge this only sparingly. There are too many echoes of hatred and violence in anything I listen to.

His music was music, his self-flagellation was greatness. Mine was just shallow, stupid, worthless. And yet, he’s barely my worst offender when it comes to music. My sexual predator guitar teacher from age 11 and violent, abusive fan-boyfriend (from “Your singing drew me out of my quiz and I just had to come talk to the girl on stage.” to “You are so black and ugly, a guy would only be with you because you look easy.”) from age 22 lead this gaslighting, dangerous ex-fiance of mine.

But I will never forgive the wounds he scratched on my faith in idealistic people, my empathy for abuse/violence sufferers. I will never forgive him for turning me into the demons in his head and me into a monster. And in this, there is its own kind of music. You thought your music was angry?

~O~O~O~

This was triggered by the book ‘When I Hit You’ by Meena Kandasamy. Notably by a section where her violent abuser shuts down her poetry writing as vindiction but justifies his own poetry as self-flagellation. Just like my ex and the iPods.

AN UNEQUAL MUSIC – a true story After he broke my iPod (and it was almost comical since he had to smash it several times and jump on it to break), and his own, he bought me a new one. This despite my never wanting to see one again. Why would I? His music taunted my lack of intelligence and I was too terrified to listen to music I used to like. He waited six months to buy one for himself. Would not let me buy one. Sharp at month 6, he bought one and paraded it around defiantly as if I had stopped him. His music was music, his self-flagellation was greatness. Mine was just shallow, stupid, worthless. And yet, he's barely my worst offender when it comes to music. My sexual predator guitar teacher from age 11 and violent, abusive fan-boyfriend (from "your singing drew me out of my quiz and I just had to come talk to the girl on stage" to "you are so black and ugly, a guy would only be with you because you look easy") from 22 lead this gaslighting, dangerous ex-fiance of mine. But I will never forgive the wounds he scratched on my faith in idealistic people, my empathy for abuse/violence sufferers. I will never forgive him for turning me into the demons in his head and me into a monster. And in this, there is its own kind of music. #WhenIHitYou #domesticviolence #gaslighting #abuse #survivor #violenceagainstwomen #VAW #meenakandasamy #book #trigger #books #nonfiction #truestory #feminism #feminist

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*If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

The April Of My (Re)Alignment

This has been a lonely month. Housekeeping always is. I also didn’t get to speak to the people who keep me sane, often. Yes, I said that, the people who keep me sane. I can cope on my own but that doesn’t mean I want to or have to. Surviving alone is glorious when you’re 17; it’s just tedious at 37. I haven’t been able to speak to them because of summer. Summer seems to go hard on everyone around. It never did for me and I can’t explain it very well. I sweat and get headaches and heat strokes just like everyone else around. But I think, summer feels like the insides of me feel the rest of the time. A little too tight inside my skin, a few too many things inside my body, just one layer of rules too thick on my natural self. Summer feels like the universe and I am in alignment finally. But no one else seems to like it. I’m…well, I’m kind of used to it. It’s all I’ve ever been, after all.

~O~O~O~O~O~

I have been slower in my responses, though I did have a few flinch reactions. I’m learning flinches are necessary too. All in good measure, I guess. Not flinching allowed me to see that the guy I labelled ‘diltoot‘ was the epitome of a fuckboi. And once you’re spotted a fuckboi, the only thing to do is run, flinches be damned.

~O~O~O~O~O~

I like someone. Or I did. Well, I still do. Or maybe I do again. It goes in waves, which is probably not that odd for a Cancerian. When I’m feeling good, it’s wonderful. Through most of April, I have not. I’ve been starving. A lot of the times, I was able to ‘understand’ why that was happening. And at other times I didn’t and I tortured myself with the kind of thoughts that some of us get used to. At the moment, I’m in a nice-ish place.

I am learning that I can be me, independently, regardless of the love I feel for another person. This is a very big realisation. He told me once, very gently about the kind of dressing that he finds attractive on a woman. I had to discipline myself to not reach for that outfit in my wardrobe the very next time I met him. My style is such rich personal expression, carefully crafted and it is navigated through choppy seas of social disapproval. I am programmed to please men, especially a man I like. I squelched that urge several times. I relented only once and after much soul-searching, I decided to add my own personal dash to it with green lipstick (unconventional choice even on the edgiest of outfits and this wasn’t one). His reaction was wonderful. He was appreciative and respectfully. Which is not to say he worships me but his eyes seemed to be saying “Thank you for considering pleasing me.” Vulnerability invites more vulnerability. I’m learning that as well.

~O~O~O~O~O~

May seems a little gentler. Enough to let me catch my breath and acknowledge that this has been a tumultuous year to say the least. 2017, I don’t abhor you (that was 2012, what a wasteful, depraved year) but I am uneasily fearful of how powerfully you’ve uprooted my beliefs and kept me on my toes. Be kind, if you can.

As with any other time, I don’t know where this or I am heading. The future is a blind mystery. But I’m not playing Sherlock. All will be revealed in good time. And for now, I’m just glad for affection and love as I find it, even if doesn’t always look familiar.

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*If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

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