Revelation in Words

Reads: 240  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
My thoughts and feelings. Something I have not been able to do until recently. Expressing the excruciating pain of keeping oneself hidden from everyone else. To discover myself through words.

Submitted: June 17, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 17, 2012

A A A

A A A


I have the habit of throwing instruction manuals to everything we buy. The washing machine, tumble dryer, microwave, the toaster. My husband gets angry everytime i tossed them in the dustbin. 'How the hell are we supposed to learn how to use them?'  When people die you realise the important things in life doesn't come with an instruction manual. There's no ten step program to educate your cildren or how to cope when you lose your partner. Not even a book of instructions that tell you what to do when you realise you prefer to be with a woman and not the man you are married to. What do you do when the marriage of convenience and social compromise becomes a suffocating force so strong that you don't know which way to escape? Life isn't like that white ikea shelf in my bedroom that comes with an instruction book and a guarantee. I don't know guys...all I know is that I'm going to be 30 years old soon, that I have a strong character instilled upon by my parent's teachings and values and the love  of my friends.  I am still the smiling, tone deaf XFactor rejectee wanabe with a passion for food and bollywood films. But I've learnt something that when it comes to 'love', 'likeness' an 'attraction of minds and personalities' the instructions must have been written in Latin because not even God can understand them. 

The world is how it is. It has its whites, its blacks and its shades of gray and in my case shades of brown. But to some people like my husband and his family they only see it as black and white, and only what is 'white' for them. Considering they are Indians...someone please tell them no matter how much they scrub the colour of their skin will always remain. Why is it then that the earth has so many shades but the sky...it is mesmerising. When I look at the clear night sky there are hundreds of stars. You just need to know where to look. The truth is, as cheesy as it sounds...the spot I had on March 30th 2012 in room 707 at 2.30am was perfect. It's probably the closest I would ever get to a star.
 
Some think breakfast is simply a few minutes in the morning.  However, those few minutes can determine how the day might pan out. A bit like predicting the weather. The moment I sit down with my morning cup of strong Lavazza coffee, a teaspoon of brown sugar and an ickle drop of cold semi-skimmed milk I know what the day has in store. Over the years there have been different types of breakfast. Breakfasts with the family, full of smiles and warm toasts and croissants. Breakfasts alone, thinking my thoughts. The breakfast that i never experienced until recently was one with a companion filled with anticipation and nerves over things that are just beginning. Breakfasts that start at the table and end on the bed is one i would love to experience. Breakfasts that don't leave time for anything...neither insurances nor fear for those I love. These are just a few minutes but breakfasts know how your day will go. Today's breakfast...I already knew things will look well but inside me each day is going to be like a game of charades...will this ever end?
 
Fear is like family...everyone has one...this is mine. But fears can be so personal and so varied just like every family in the world. Fears as simple as revealing oneself to a person you've never met before. A naked portrait of oneself to a familiar stranger. I felt that, recently. An ease of literally being transparently naked inside and out, a comfort never experienced before with those known for years. Fears that we learn to live with. Will I be half the woman my mother is? A good daughter, an obedient wife and daughter in law, a caring and loving mother? Could I be all this and still be the real me? There is no answer. Once, I thought it was possible. Now, it's difficult.  There are fears that give you security and those that damage others. Fears that are difficult to name...the fear of the unknown. A fear that nobody understands what you believe. I have been swinging with the fear that acts as my conscience. Reality (present circumstance) v.s Reality (the reality within me). This fear is the biggest culprit, we unwittingly become agrasp within its hands. Do we surrender? Do we fight? There is also the fear of what we don't want to feel. What we don't want to see. Yet, once experienced - that exhiliration...the feeling of being alive...it's a bloody addiction! Why can't we live life instead of just living? To some this is possible. To others it's an excruciating existence summoned upon by cultural and social hypocracy. 
 
When I look into the mirror, splashing warm water onto my face...get that feeling...things moving around you but you just stay in the same place you've been all your life?  With your values, ethics, morals. When you are like that you can't just keep a blindfold over your eyes. The next thing you see in the mirror might just be that someone who blows those straight out of the double glazed window. An image, a moment of reality where the soft warm hands of that person tracing your back taking care in each movement to effortlessly create an electrifying touch supersedes any expectation. Then the head talks...'Don't go losing your mind, because you may just be one more to her. One of many...and you...you're married not just to a man but to his entire clan with a child, that is not fair on her...Yet her body couldn't lie intertwining with yours...her crystal eyes certainly didn't, staring into mine deep within.' I like it...could it be so wrong? I love how her hair smells, I love how she holds me. When I'm with her it feels like that's where I'm supposed to be...even though this may paralyse me with fear...more than anything, I need her friendship. Whatever this may be...the mirror never lies. I'm willing to remove the protective plastic film off my mobile screen.
 
If the question was posed; would you like to know the exact moment when you are going to die? What would be your response?  I came across two men randomly on the street...one in Bradford and another in Manchester. Both approached me out of the blue and claimed to know where my future may lead. Neither I took seriously as they demanded money to carry out special prayers to ensure my life would be successful and fruitfull. Majority would say 'no'. I'm with the minority who would say 'yes'. I'm not sure why I want to know. I think it might be because I am not prepared to know the moment of my mother's death. My father's was painful enough. Nor my brother's...and above all, the death of my son.
 
I came across something I had written a few months back last year. Before the introduction of discovering myself. An ickle insight;
 
"I became a daughter loved by many.  Scolded at to be moulded into the ideal daughter in law.  Sanskar, as it is called in the indian culture.  The values your parents taught you, which represent them.  Twenty-five years of heartache, affection, care, sleepless nights, all one day to be given to the best bidder who sweeps past. Before you know it within six months  of  the initial meeting all the preparations for the wedding are complete and I became the most exquisitely beautiful bride most girls dream about.  I couldn't recognie myself.  Thanks to my own outer as well as inner beauty but a good beautician also helps.  My auntie who I am forever indebted to was definitely my Gok Wan for the day.
Simple, caring and a good sense of humour were always the criteria I gave out when friends and family asked me what type of qualities I was looking for in a partner.  Money, flashy cars, good dresser were never things I really cared for.  There is always someone written for you in life, whether good or bad it is a choice we ultimately make. I made mine like many other daughters. Being submerged in the gujarati culture, full of contradictions, a tug of war between the real and that which started off as a fable, turned into tradition and then ended up being religious. The life long battles between tradition and modern society. I decided to choose mine through tradition dismissing my true attractions towards the opposite sex, fulfilling my duty as a daughter.  Meeting formally with both our parents present, chatting in my mum's lovely blue kitchen for fifteen minutes.  Skepticism swept through me after the question, 'how much debt do you have?'.   I had spoken to three other guys before and neither of them asked this question.  It took me aback.  His mother asking my mum the next day, why i took a student loan out annoyed me further.  
 
Yet, here we are - four years eleven months and thirteen days after that initial meeting.  It makes us think as a human race, does choosing your partner the 'right way' always end up being 'right'?  The marriage itself is a like a rollercoaster at a theme park.  You slowly build towards the top, eventually get there and immediately you are voilently pushed down the rickety slope of doom. Stomach churning, eyes squelching.  Wait a minute, looks like you are working  upwards again...Oh no, it's loop the loop...and again...oh, and again!  Phew, thank god it is over!!  The adrenaline rush makes you want to go on it again...not for me thanks.  A rollercoaster, yes.  Marriage, no.
 
In these years of being married even though i have had the numerous amounts of indirect comments from the mother in law, never welcome obviously, today was the day she summed herself.  A backward hypocrite.  My husband being the worried thinker, he does not admit it but he is very much like his dad in that sense matched together with his mother's impatience and stubborness of always being right.  I always got fustrated as to why he asks my opinion and then decides what he wanted in the first place...years of training from his mother.  He has been working hard to get things done for our first and hopefully last home.  However, 9.21pm and i had sat down for the first time since 6am this morning constantly cooking, cleaning and doing the dog work of looking after my child...changing nappies, feeding, cleaning etc.  While I was cleaning the cooker my mother in law insisted on getting the airbed up for them.  I commented that they will set it up when they get home as i didn't want to damage it as i had not set the airbed up before. 'You have a lot to learn' came the taunt. 'They have been working all day and we have been sat down, we should appreciate them'.  I don't know who she was talking about but it certainly wasn't me.  I added,  appreciation comes both ways.  Getting extremely annoyed and fustrated at her comment.  'This makes love grow, you should always listen to your husband, their choice should be the final word'. What a fucking joke.  With opinions like this plaguing the british asian society how can we move forward?  Can we move forward?  Yet, this is the same person who stated to my mother at my wedding 'don't worry your daughter is my daughter'.  
 
Not all mother in laws of asian origin living in England have this attitude.  I have friends who are extremely close to their mother in laws rather than their own mothers sharing a very loving and caring relationship.  I like to think of myself as a very tolerant person but my patience is tested when living with my in laws for more than five days. No one has seen a hard life more than them, they know everything and when you state their way is not the way you will choose snippets of taunts fly my way, 'well, it's up to you!!'  I always wants to reply 'yep, it bloody is' - never had the courage to say that yet."
 
It is an emotional experience sometimes, looking back...brings back the truth of today.
 
There are things in life a person can't do themselves...argue (althought the mirror may disagree) and fold a king size duvet sheet.  All my life I have thought the ideal way to live was as a couple.  The romantic thought of sharing your life with another. Regardless of how weird the couple would be. There are couples who end up becoming a trio, either through sexual excitement of through companionship. Couples who end up being without each other because they cannot handle the fear of not facing the challenge. There are couples who are impossible to define, by logic or gender but definitely not for the lack of chemistry. Couples for whom the chemistry has fizzled out, although they keep on being a family.  Families where in one moment, there was a couple. Couples that were in one moment and now aren't anything, nothing can define them. That is what gives us the most fear in our lives...when a couple breaks up. Whatever the case is, the first reaction is always panic. Fear at the change, the loss of control in our own lives. The fear of being alone. We all face this. Being alone isn't so bad...I wish I was now.  You always want the opposite to what you have.
 
I read somewhere a list of every physical and mental symptom that occurs when someone falls in love.  It was affirmed that the person in love has various similar symptoms to a sickness. Being slightly feverish, pupils dilate, they get the chills, increase in body temperature and loss of their mental capacity.  As a cold the worst spell of love comes those first few days leading to an amazing experience when the patient becomes accustomed to the presence of the person they love. After this, the symptoms multiply instead of subsiding. The loss of apetitie becomes apparent in the person has has fallen in love. Each night is lived with nervous tension and isolation. The patient understands what is happening but there is no ibruprofen or anitibiotic that could make it better. Life without mi amor becomes a living hell. Recuperation could take days or turn into a chronic illness leading to an anxious state for eternity.
 
Did you know that when we laugh we use fifteen muscles in our face!  We may not notice this but every of those fiteen muscles move every time. When we shout we use thirteen.  If riding a bike you only use nine muscles. Guess which one wins though?? The most muscles used are thirty four...when we kiss. Which type of kiss? A passionate kiss. Kiss of friendship. A kiss that doesn't say anything or a kiss that says everything. Maybe, that's why a kiss means so much. After it's given there is no need to speak. Everything has already been said.
 
A word i came across today is one that never existed in my father's dictionary...'impossible'. Defined as "adj. 1.  Incapable of having existence or of occurring.  2. Not capable of being accomplished". I guess 'Improbable' is a better word than 'Impossible'. Like everyone does I suppose. The former hurts less. It provides a glimmer of hope for something that may be extroardinary. Little Krishna killing King Kansa was improbable, but it happened. It was improbable that an African-American living in the White House, but it happened. It was improbable that a funny looking Scottish woman would be Britain's Best Talent, but it happened. Maybe the term 'Impossible Love' should be changed to 'Improbable Love'...at least there is a glimmer of hope. Where there's a chance , it's worth a try.
 
The cultural and social influence I was brought up with made me fight every urge, every touch, every feeling of my inner homosexuality to be 'normal'. Why are such pressures put upon us? What is 'normal'? It's not normal to think that making love is a sin, a mere tool to reproduction.  It's not normal to think that God doesn't love lesbians and gays. It's not normal that respected priests and saints cover up abuse of children within religious institutions. Whyis it not normal to allow priests to marry or to allow women bishops? It is not normal, the riches of the Vatican, the riches of self proclaimed indian saints or the gold and money thrown at publicity campaigns and religious buildings when it is absurd that millions contract AIDS in Africa and India becaue they don't use condoms. God gave us two arms and two feet together with the capacity to love, to want to touch each other. To feel with our fingers a fast beating heartbeat with excitement. This surely cannot be a sin.  Love isn't easy. I haven't ever experienced this love, however feel I am close to something similar at the moment...unrequited. Religion or those that administer religion make it much harder and more complicated as if we humans aren't capable of complicating it already.  I guess to love is to also understand rejection. To understand you will get hurt, you will suffer and you are definitely going to cry. It's to understand that things are very different from the days of when sitama would sit on a pyre of burning wood for her husband. Today, to marry and live happily ever after...false! People like my in laws don't know truly what it means to love. I want to experience this...to hold someone so tight that you don't know where you begin and they end. If this is a sin, then I want to be a sinner. 
 
My father isn't a hero. He never gained any medal or prize for saving someone's life as a good samaritan, never taken a bullet nor has he ever had his picture in the paper. He was a soldier out in the trenches away from the limelight. No gift of the gab or uneccessary heroisms. He was a 'tow-mater' (as in the animated movie 'Cars'). He persevered, worked hard for his family and endured excruciating pain without a flinch. Coming to England without his parents and siblings and seeing family in all he came in contact with. His family, blood relatives or not were his life.  A quality I seem to possess. The life of Ratilal Balubhai Mistry. My dad. My hero.
 
The Sexual Offences Act 2003 defines rape as non-consensual sex in which the perpetrator is the victim's spouse. There is no excuse for rape.  A woman who only engaged with me for her sexual relief revealed her husband takes her anywhere with brutal force without any concern about her feelings or preferences.  You read it in the papers. Watch it on the news. Never thought I would come across it in my reality. Sickness erupted within in me. Yet, will not leave him due to her daughters loving their 'daddy'. Will they appreciate their mother's efforts to be a living corpse for their hapiness when they get older? I, appreciate my husband with all his faults and indifferences has never imposed this need upon me.
 
I saw some of the old pictures lying in my drawer. Made me think of what the most important photos we have ever seen in history. History captured in an instant.  It's usually of catastrophe caused through evil intentions, September 11th. New invention or discoveries. One that I noticed...a theme in museums and a doctor's surgery... of a couple.  In a frozen pose on the verge of an everlasting kiss.  Like the pictures in my drawer they seek refuge in each other. Isn't that what we feel when we look at old photos? Time never seems to move. Life keeps on moving but they are trapped in eternity forever. Flashes of a time that will never return. Then why as I watch BBC news would a photographer chose a profession where they take pictures of war? I guess if they could explain it all in words there wouldn't be a need for a camera. As in life there are some things we just cannot explain in mere words. Like staying alive. Feeling compelled to love to fulfill ones duties. That's why when i think back those moments are frozen in time forever. Our life is made up of images. Photographs etched in our memory. Every second, reminding us how beautiful it is to just live.
 
It is said that falling in love is a reflex. A bit like breathing that cannot be learnt or controlled. I guess like the way I fell in love with a woman. I did not learn to, I could not control my emotions it just happened.  But I would have wanted to learn how to love a woman.  To learn to walk holding her waist, to shudder again with desire while making love to her. Today I craved to hear her voice again. Lying on the bed ready for her to take me, need me, want me. Is that wrong? Tears spitting from my eyes as desire reminded me of past sexual declarations. My hand slid in between the soft skin and the toughness of my jeans with ease. The fingers pulsed as though they were hers. My body was not mine...it was ready to be hers. When my eyes opened i was shaking water dripping from the eyelashes. My eyes were crying in pain. My body was shuddering with desire and want. My mind was imagining only her. My heart was screaming. I didn't mean to, even when i met her I denied myself to call it love. Is it truly love? I didn't, I couldn't and I wouldn't think so. It has been a month since the agreement of friendship was decided. Now, I think it is. 
 
It is father's day today. How I wish my papabear was here to guide me. Provide me with the pearls of wisdom and comfort only he can. He was the only one to ever make me feel like the most special person. My life would have turned out very different if he was alive.  I may not have been married and revealed my sexuality to my father. Ifs and buts. My life is what it is and I guess I can't change that.  However, I can make decisions in the future that change things even if a little to make it bearable. The past few weeks I have been wallowing in my own self pity. Hurting thinking I have hurt others. This life has never been mine...it has always been for others and I have had a reality check.  Instead of feeling self pity just pick myself up and carry on with life how it is. Maybe one day things will be different. I'll just continue having the smiling facade...my' gleaming smile pasted on covering alot of pain' as a friend once told me. It is said that 'it's good to talk'. I disagree, the more you tell someone wanting to reveal the truth and be honest the more they get fed up with the 'talks'. Just keep going. Do what you want without saying anything to anyone else. You my friend, will get an earache from now on...I'll be writing much more!! Get the cotton buds ready.
 


© Copyright 2019 RMysteria. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: