Women are complex - we are intricate and mysterious - so mysterious that it takes us years to finally figure ourselves out - that is if you are lucky and introspective enough or just plain and simply shallow. There have been times in my life where I have had a Eureka moment, when I was absolutely certain that I could possibly do a bullet point PowerPoint slide to describe myself, only to realize that I had spoken too soon. If you had asked me a couple of years earlier, I would have said that I am made of pieces - all the experiences of life quilted together. But as time goes by and incidents trigger my particular case, I feel I am more like a layered cake or Neapolitan ice cream.
Childhood and youth in India were a seemingly fairy-tale like, till I was of marriageable age - which in those days just after graduation. The traumatic events that followed in search of a "groom" is a story for another day - suffice to say that I still get nightmares where I am going through the whole process of "arranged marriage". Like most people, I avoid discussing painful events of my life. In hindsight, there were many things that I would have done differently. Apparently moving on is not one of my strengths and in many ways, I was the rebellion bride. I could have been more cooperative but just the whole concept of being paraded still has the power to disgust me. For all my talk I have lived a traditional lifestyle, yet I continue to question authority, traditions, religion and push beyond known boundaries till it is uncomfortable. The boundaries and restrictions taught by India is a part of me, settled deep down like a layer - undisturbed covered now with the free thinking of living in the west.
I am at time amused by how much I have evolved over the years. Although at present "the westernized me " is more predominant, the realization that whatever happens, however much I try and integrate into the western world, I will always have my layer of India with me, makes me more true to myself. I cannot blend my past with the current life, it is hiding somewhere deep, surfacing at times when a blast of nostalgia comes over. I used to think I lived in pieces, a part of me just like other immigrants left with the loved ones back home, but I have realized that we may be just leaving behind shadows of memories,... Memories are all illusions, they are distorted versions of our experiences. All my experiences in India and later in the Middle East, are a part of me - they are me.
I might have spent my youth in India but the West - Canada is where I grew into being an adult. Life happened - My chocolate layer is here - and I am laying it out perfectly over my vanilla. It is not blended, but it is who I am. The Western society opened up my thinking. Taught me to be open up, to be more tolerant. I still remember calling up my dad and telling him that I saw a woman driving a semi-trailer 15 years ago. A woman did not necessarily have to be a doctor or teacher. It was an eye-opener. The West is where I truly understood the meaning of equality of sexes, of freedom - freedom from labels. My teenagers are having a different life, single flavoured, but hopefully my expreiences from life in East will be be the colourful sprinkle that will brighten their view of life.
Childhood and youth in India were a seemingly fairy-tale like, till I was of marriageable age - which in those days just after graduation. The traumatic events that followed in search of a "groom" is a story for another day - suffice to say that I still get nightmares where I am going through the whole process of "arranged marriage". Like most people, I avoid discussing painful events of my life. In hindsight, there were many things that I would have done differently. Apparently moving on is not one of my strengths and in many ways, I was the rebellion bride. I could have been more cooperative but just the whole concept of being paraded still has the power to disgust me. For all my talk I have lived a traditional lifestyle, yet I continue to question authority, traditions, religion and push beyond known boundaries till it is uncomfortable. The boundaries and restrictions taught by India is a part of me, settled deep down like a layer - undisturbed covered now with the free thinking of living in the west.
I am at time amused by how much I have evolved over the years. Although at present "the westernized me " is more predominant, the realization that whatever happens, however much I try and integrate into the western world, I will always have my layer of India with me, makes me more true to myself. I cannot blend my past with the current life, it is hiding somewhere deep, surfacing at times when a blast of nostalgia comes over. I used to think I lived in pieces, a part of me just like other immigrants left with the loved ones back home, but I have realized that we may be just leaving behind shadows of memories,... Memories are all illusions, they are distorted versions of our experiences. All my experiences in India and later in the Middle East, are a part of me - they are me.
I might have spent my youth in India but the West - Canada is where I grew into being an adult. Life happened - My chocolate layer is here - and I am laying it out perfectly over my vanilla. It is not blended, but it is who I am. The Western society opened up my thinking. Taught me to be open up, to be more tolerant. I still remember calling up my dad and telling him that I saw a woman driving a semi-trailer 15 years ago. A woman did not necessarily have to be a doctor or teacher. It was an eye-opener. The West is where I truly understood the meaning of equality of sexes, of freedom - freedom from labels. My teenagers are having a different life, single flavoured, but hopefully my expreiences from life in East will be be the colourful sprinkle that will brighten their view of life.
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