Monday, June 16, 2014

Musical dopamine #1

A few years ago, I wouldn't be caught dead listening to something with the unabashed pop feel of this track.

The original is poppier and busier, with a strangely Indian sounding sample by Gold Panda opening it.

Goldroom takes "You (Hahaha)" and elevates it to a whole other level by stripping away the Gold Panda sample, adding punchy basslines, tricky grooves, and a signature aural firework sound marking the chorus. So that when you hit 3:08 and the cannons go off, you know you're in nu disco land. 

And what a wonderful world it is.

The song is about learning to walk away, a lesson we could all could use. 
My favourite line is "choke when you see love grow" and “you were meant to be alone” which she says a thousand times as the song fades out.

The chorus is what will hook you, with the very unusual “hahahaha” preceding the matter of fact “I was right” and (too bad) “you fucked it up.”

Gentle, groovy beratement amplified by classic Goldroom. It couldn’t get any better.


Sunday, January 26, 2014

Phoenix

I'm sharing my story because I know it will resonate with a fair few people. What I have experienced over the past few months seems to be happening to people I know and love dearly - souls travel together, so I guess that makes sense. 

I went to law school because my career counsellor in class 10 said my power motivation and desire to help would be best served by doing law. Of course, once you get into the best law school in the country, you go. I went and fell in love, and made the most of this crazy, strangely blessed institution with its whacky inhabitants and high ideals. A lot of the time, I wanted to be studying just the liberal arts, like my sister in the States. Law school seemed worth it because of the people and the strength of the qualification. There was little dancing, and little-r introspection. There was a lot of living, exploring, pushing boundaries, forming an identity, trying to break it down, escapism in action, blind thrashing around. I love that I did what I did, no regrets. But I'm glad to have got past that stage. 

Law school was followed by a short stint at Google HK, the BEST place to work for sharp, driven and fun people. HK was very good for me, I spent quality time with myself, flaneuring, thinking, being. But that being was somewhat unconscious. And then I went to my dream NGO, the Centre for Social Justice, Ahmedabad where Gagan boss gave me the kind of project I always wanted to work on - moving towards the rule of law in 15 villages of Rajasthan and Gujarat. It was to be an intervention that would marry legal empowerment and socio-cultural change - perfect perfect perfect. My NGO was fantastic, I was travelling a LOT, met lovely people in Ahmedabad - everything was fine and yet something wasn't right. I had that feeling for a few months before shit really started hitting the fan. 

I wasn't eating or sleeping properly, my heart was sore, I felt alienated from my creative side, lonely (not alone), somewhat bored in a wonderful but somewhat limited city.. Going to the field (Lambadiya) with my wonderful colleagues was an unforgettable experience. I met the funnest, most grounded, motivated, brave and committed people - I could see the stars, we all had daal batti three times a day and laughed about our madness in working in such far flung areas.. we joked about the police and the rule of law (or its lack), how rule of law was suddenly a phrase that our colleagues had latched onto and were using in everyday life. I met a sarpanch with Bhagat Singh posters in his home; we rode long distances to conduct FGDs - engaging, among others, with tipsy and enraged villagers, garrulous old men, nubile young wives and excited children. 

I should have been so happy, doing what I thought I always wanted to do. 

I wasn't sad. I just wasn't happy. I wasn't feeling, when feeling was all I ever knew I had. The ability to feel, relate, get angry, empathize. 

When I could no longer concentrate on anything (at all), when I had to ask my junior colleague to help me out with tasks because the smallest thing had the potential to trigger a panic attack, when my self esteem had hit the kind of low I had last experienced as a confused teenager in school, when all I could think of during a training program was about jumping off the terrace - that's when my parents stepped in and I came back to Delhi.

We went to: a shrink, a healer, met some of my closest friends. My nani came over and stayed for a long time. There were good days and bad days. Most days were just days to get through. I tried going to court, working with a judge - wonderful office but I was just in no state to work, much less on something I didn't really want to do. I avoided my friends, treated myself and people around me like shit, stayed in bed for days, rejecting myself and my family. I had three false epiphanies, thinking I was over the hill and would stay strong. They turned into disappointment. 

I had all these questions (I'd always had them, but this time they were genuinely existential) about the purpose of life, social injustice, realizing your potential, your own true purpose etc. Life didn't seem worth living. I decided not to get out of bed until I was inspired to do something. 

And then one day I jumped out at the thought of taking pictures. All the time. And then suddenly I had a reason to live that was just about me. Not about my family or friends, but me, Aqseer. 

Slowly I started getting answers. Some from the healer, some from these incredible books that my aunt suggested (A New Earth, Journey of Souls, Many Lives Many Masters - full list below). Things started falling into place. I went to my guruji and danced after ages - and I felt so alive. And happy. And alive. I applied to Global Music Institute for vocal lessons on an impulse - just allowing my gut to guide me. The application process involved composing a song - and thus I got to fulfill an old dream - of singing and recording at least one song. I loved that process. Reading A New Earth and learning about karma helped me come to peace with my role in social justice - I accepted that wanting to work in the development sector was not a process based interest, but an ends based one - my concern with the greatest possible impact I could achieve - all ego. (Read A New Earth to understand what I mean by ego here.) 

And so I decided to focus on the PROCESS that I loved engaging in for its own sake. I started paying close attention to what I genuinely enjoyed doing. And that slow process of self discovery has lead me to - dance, vocal lessons, photography and healing practices. 

Love, and light to you. If you're not happy, do something about it. Create your reality, don't wait for life to happen to you. 

Read all of the below. And text if you want to talk. 

Aqseer

1)      A New Earth – Eckhart Tolle
2)      The Secret – Rhonda Byrne
3)      Let the Power be with You – Shivi Dua
4)      Journey of Souls – Michael Newton
5)      Autobiography of a Yogi – Padmahansa Yogananda
6)      Many Lives Many Masters, Miracles Happen – Brian Weiss
7)      Waiting for Autumn – Scott Blum
8)      The Celestine Prophecy, The Twelfth Insight – James Redfield
9)      Commentaries on Living - J.D. Krishnamurti
10)   The Grand Design - Stephen Hawking

Monday, April 29, 2013

What I have learnt since graduation


1.       The only way to live is to be present.
o   This is hard for me to do, so I got a tattoo to remind myself to embrace the here and now
o   By extension, FOMO is your biggest enemy
2.       The quality of longing (nostalgia) is bittersweet. It is a light and deep ache that dives in and out of your aura, touching recesses of your memory just enough to madden you, but not enough for the picture to become clear in your head, not enough to relive the memory. All our experience is ephemeral, there is nothing but this very moment, and look, there it goes, whizzing past your bemused face.
o   If you were happy in your now, you wouldn’t bother with memories of college. Save it.
3.       Your job should enable you to learn, create, maintain yourself, socialize and follow your passion, fulfil your purpose
4.       The way to find this job is to stop being a risk averse coward, to trust yourself, figure out your talents, skill set and marry it with your career goals, what you would like to be remembered for
5.       Don’t let your routine trick you. You might have a schedule and things you do at a set time on most days, but no two moments are alike and most of them are worth paying attention to. Or would be if you paid attention to them.
6.       Life is a step in the evolution of your soul. There is no ultimate purpose to life, because there is no way to answer the why of existence. If you say life is an elaborate test designed to identify super souls that resemble god, well, you still don’t know why these super souls need to exist at all
7.       Kids haven’t understood mortality and aren’t jaded enough to question the meaning of existence. They are good people to learn from
8.       Boredom (no internet helps), alone-ness and deadlines are the biggest drivers of creativity. Humans will do anything to give direction to the voices in our heads
9.       Moments of unity, oblivion, mindlessness are rare, and worth pursuing. You might chance upon them dancing a club, sitting on a rock facing the ocean, in the arms of a partner, on the back of a bike. When they come, they’re worth holding onto. But the hunt for oblivion shouldn’t turn into escapism
10.   Most intelligent beings suffer from existential angst. Not enough recognize or acknowledge this. It’s easier to blindly live from day to day, consuming but not creating, smoking cigarettes to mark the passage of time. We do not know how to be idle, and its killing us.
11.   The way to be idle is to calm down and meditate (four deep breaths or a look around with a real sense of wonder is all it takes), then do something productive with your time and energy. There is no excuse to be bored – there’s too much to learn, do, see, observe, eat, experience
12.   Alone is okay
13.   And the only way to be happy is to be self sufficient.  Test yourself. Can you handle being alone in a distant village without Facebook and dinner plans? Will you find yourself running around like a headless chicken, looking for stimuli and someone to share every stray thought with, or will you take the time to look at the stars and breathe in the cleaner air?
14.   This is not to say that loving or needing another person makes you weak. It takes strength to allow another person in and give them the chance to break your heart to smithereens. But making another person the centre of your universe and being dependent on them is a recipe for disaster. Ditto trying to fix someone else or their problems. Co-dependence is a nightmare and the biggest cause of insane phone bills. You are not worthy because you are great at helping people. You are worthy. Full stop.
15.   Being in love and loving someone is a decision and continuous work
16.   Everything that life throws you is a lesson in disguise. You could look at it that way and try to learn the lesson, or you could feel sorry for yourself and blame everyone and everything but yourself. Act like things will work out, and they will
17.   You are extraordinarily powerful in shaping the course of your life. Think something, manifest it, and it will happen. If it doesn’t, it is for a good reason. It’s up to you to figure out what that is.
o   The universe sends all the answers, stay on the ride.  
18.   There is no way to prove any of this. Belief systems, like M-theory, are ways of understanding the world and making the most of it. Believing that I am in control of my life, that it has a purpose and that sometimes it’s okay to surrender to what the universe is trying to do for me keeps me sane, even happy
19.   When you abuse your body in any way, you’re abusing yourself. Your body is not under-nourished or overfed, you are. Look in the mirror and say sorry, not to your body, to yourself. Why are you disrespecting yourself? How do you expect to be respected and loved when you can’t do the same for yourself? How do you expect to respect and love someone else when you can’t respect and love yourself?
20.   Sometimes, it’s good to let conflict happen. There would be very little if we could find some way to contain alterity or conflate identities, or make them irrelevant
21.   In the end, what matters is what you experienced, what you created, and the relationships you growed 


Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Rage

We’re ridiculous, honestly.

We expect people in power to do what is best for the people who aren’t.

Men, upper castes, the government, the rich, the educated, the liberals. Some of them will, most of them won’t.

Why would maulvis want women entering the sanctum sanctorum of their prized masjids, mucking up the interiors, lessening the pride, privilege and power associated with the restricted access?

Why would half naked priests want to let us into their temples and risk feeling as ordinary as us?

Why would the government want the population to be educated, strident and questioning? A resigned janta expecting no more than TV and a few annas thrown their way before elections is far more manageable.

If the government undertook community building initiatives, or tried to do anything long term about the Naxals, they would actually have to earn their votes instead of dividing them up; and isn’t that too much to expect them to sign up for voluntarily? 

EVERYONE takes shortcuts. People in power are no exception.

We, are to blame.

 For being naive. For thinking that people in power will check themselves. For expecting them to do what’s best for us. For helping sustain the status quo.

Family halls at Muslim restaurants, “aurat masjids”, sit at home when you’re bleeding from your vagina because you are impure, never mind that YOU WOULD NOT EXIST IF I DID NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO MENSTRUATE YOU TURD, separate coaches for women, separate temples for dalits; we let them disenfranchise us, deprive us and then ghettoize us.

We then thank them properly for carving out reservations in a system so wracked with inequality and lack of opportunity that really, they should thank us for being the placid cattle that we have emulated this entire time. 

I have been to upwards of fifty BPL Muslim households in three states these past few months. A few things are the same. The interiors are clean, the exterior usually filthy, the woman is home, sometimes educated, capable of working, but not allowed to by her husband, who obviously would rather his children starve than allow his wife to do everyone the favour of making a little extra on the side. They know NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING about government schemes that are allegedly used as the carrots to buy their votes. They have given up on the public education system. They have no expectations of the government. They make do. They smile. THEY SMILE. THEY ARE NOT ANGRY.

And this gets me, every single time. Actually no, that’s a lie. It got to me today. I wasn’t angry this entire time.

Today, in the one room house of a young woman who supports her family of five by cleaning homes in far away “Mumbai”, TODAY, I felt anger. So far, not having encountered anything like what you see in Slumdog or read about in Shantaram, I was not convinced I was seeing the reality of living below the poverty line. I wanted to see desperate, undignified poverty. I was met with families that like buying clothes, and shoes, and dressing up, and cable, and jewellery, that like food and drink and a good time; but do all of this on infinitesimal budgets and live day to day.

Today, my twentieth day doing this work, today I felt anger. Felt something. Anger at their condition, anger that her father nearly reached his deathbed trying to get his house constructed under the great Awas Yojna named, obviously named, after Dear Departed Mrs. Gandhi, after whom the antarashtriya hawaiadda of the home of the 84 riots is also, oh so appropriately named.

And through the telling of this tale of her father’s debilitation, she smiles, checks her phone, talks to her nieces and nephews and despite repeated requests not to, gets up and makes five cups of tea. They cannot afford five cups of tea. They cannot afford one extra packet of milk a day; she was telling me that five minutes into the interview and making me the most amazing chai at the end of it. There is resignation, and bravery; courage and fortitude and generosity, but there is no anger that can be translated into action.

Why?

Because decades of incompetence and a uniquely patronizing attitude has, in a masterstroke, got us to expect nothing of the government. As long as there is a semblance of law and order, hell, a government, and some platitudes, some show of governance and better things to come, we are content.

As long as men buy us flowers and pretend to give a shit when we’re menstruating, pregnant or weeping, we are content.

Do not grope or rape us, kind masters, that is all we can ask of your uncontrollable sexual appetites and wild, wilful natures; we will gladly make ourselves scarce in public, and speak softly, remain invisible so as not to cause any strain to your sensory organs or sensibilities. Thank you ever so kindly for allowing us to breathe and get through a lifetime without our vaginas being torn asunder by your ever mighty penii that we dare not question, literally or figuratively lest you beat our brains out of our skulls. Thank you again for allowing me to go to school and giving me some milk when I was young so I could push your inheritor out of my body after producing five undesirable young girls that you can ill afford. In return for being allowed to live without being raped, and for the privilege of being yours, I will wear forty five marks of ownership, change my last name, give up my rights to property, sweep, dust, clean after you, cook for you, whatever you like master, whatever we can afford, stroke your ego, absorb your anger, tell myself you love me when you slap me so hard it leaves marks on my face, kill myself looking after the five girls and one, crown jewel of a son, collapse my family and friends with yours, forget my life before you were kind enough to take me off of my father’s hands and never, ever, threaten your virile and treacherous masculinity. Is that good enough sire? Or shall I throw some marital rape and all of my parent’s earnings in? Oh and vaginal douches and tightening creams, yes, of course, I will maintain my figure, vaginal elasticity and sweet breath for you. Of course, sire, of course.

I cannot speak for dalits, adivasis and minorities.

In our childish belief that those in power will do right by us, we have surrendered everything we had, our rage included.

Let’s get real. We’ve got to fight. Nothing is coming our way on a silver platter. Nor can we expect it to.

Silence

Addicted to stimuli, we stumble from thing to thing.

Get up, check phone, read on pot, listen to music while bathing, don’t leave yourself alone for one, solitary, second.

Because its terrifying.

Silence means facing the yawning chasms bursting with doubt,
           abandoned dreams threatening to show their faces,
                         thorny insecurities,
                                 shards of our shattered hearts, adrift on seas of self pity, sloshing around in the parts of our mind not inundated by hysterically pursued funnn, caffeine, nicotine, alcohol, hormones, MSG, visuals, graphics, text, pixels, backlight.

 **
Stimuli, stimuli, stimuli.

Escape;

escape;

escape.

*
Take a deep breath.

Close your eyes.
/
Get your thumbs off your smartphone.

Switch off the music.

Listen to your heart beating.

Don't be terrified. . You are all you have, and that's okay. You are imperfect and scared and lonely, and; enough. .

Look around. Its good to be alive - the world is a many splendoured, beautiful place and you are blessed.
-
Get some perspective. Stop chasing what you think you’re missing out on.

Live.

Feel.

Create.

Stop   running.

Aging

After a while,
The fat starts depositing around your neck
The mirror shows lines and marks, all over your face
There is scant hesitation in expressing need;
Or greed.
You have learnt to deal with rejection, it matters not.
You, my friend
Are now old,
Indifferent,
And ready to grow fat in peace.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Men are the answer

I was raised to be a feminist. It wasn't a conscious effort on my mother's part; in fact, when she sees me blustering with anger and frustration and going on about feminism today, she can't understand where those feelings come from. But that's how it is.

For the longest time, there was the silly refusal to wear pink clothes and act like a girl. There was the tough as nails I never cry act, there was the constant refusal to admit weakness or defeat around a guy. Then I grew up.

Then I read a little of the feminist theory I had grown up putting in practice. Then I looked around and found, to my amazement, that a lot of people were actually feminists or had feminist beliefs, but refused outright to associate with the school of thought.

Women seemed to have got what they wanted out of the movement, and were unwilling to risk being considered man-haters. They had the vote, and chivalry to boot. They had the right to call a man out on abuse, but also get to be bought flowers. What more could they ask for?

The men that weren't feminists tended to be confused, annoyed, furious or indifferent. Feminists were man hating crazy bitches who wanted female dominance at the cost of men's rights. We were the people pushing s. 498A, putting husbands and their entire families in jail on false counts, squeezing spouses for obscene amounts of money, manipulative women who refused to let husbands see their children.

Men's Rights Activists (MRAs) sprung up in the US. Websites and organizations like Save the Indian Family Foundation mushroomed in India. There was talk of abuse of the laws in favour of women in India and the destruction of the family system in the US.

The result? We have feminismS and feministS of various stripes, agreeing on little but the goal of fairness in gender relations. We have the MRAs in the US and their counterparts in India, some of whom think that their interests and those of feminists are mutually exclusive. We have the women who want nothing to do with the feminist question, and men who think that the cost of being a man is outweighed by its benefits. We have the Good Men Project and its kin.

What do these developments tell us?

A lot of men have ceased to think of themselves as un-gendered and have come to realise that their gender comes with its own baggage. A lot of men are trying to grapple with what some call a “post feminist” world, understanding how to negotiate unfamiliar terrain where usual gender cues no longer hold good.

The SlutWalk Bengaluru page has, of late, been inundated with angry comments by masculinists who want freedom from the role of a protector, who seethe at feminism and the great injustice of today’s world.

It is, therefore, now more important than ever for feminists to make a conscious effort to “ask the man question.” It is vital that feminists think about the repercussions of a particular legislative or policy demand on men as well as women. This is for a few reasons.

One is that any benefit to women that comes at the cost of unfairness to anyone else is undesirable and unethical. Moreover, in the long run, this unfairness will lead to greater hostility against women and feminists and a blanket refusal to be supportive of our agenda: something we are already seeing.

The other is motivated by self interest: feminism will not work if there are no men to adhere to it. bell hooks has said this in a more eloquent fashion than I can manage:

“Separatist ideology encourages us to believe that women alone can make feminist revolution - we cannot. Since men are the primary agents maintaining and supporting sexism and sexist oppression, they can be successfully eradicated only if men are compelled to assume responsibility for transforming their consciousness and the consciousness of society as a whole...”

My amendment to that quote would be that everyone is an agent in maintaining and supporting sexism; even if men at present have ostensibly more to lose from a drastic restructuring of our society along the lines of gender.

The last reason is that freeing men from mandated gender roles is already a rightful part of the feminist goal, as I see it. When sex became gender, feminism automatically became about more than just women. And so, in my view, feminism that is not concerned about men is not feminism.

And so feminism must proactively be concerned with men. To a large extent, it has been for quite a while. But the perception of feminism and men’s interests being mutually exclusive persists, and must gradually be eroded.

**

This post is titled “men are the answer.” I came to this conclusion when I first bumped into the Good Men Project and realised that while most women had had enough of and from feminism, it was men who were starting to wake up to their gendered existence and asking questions that could catalyze meaningful social evolution.

This opened up room for a lot of discussion and debate, of the realisation that societal mores hurt everyone, not just women; and that everyone had to gain from questioning these mores. With men questioning their own binds and seeing themselves as participants in this societal evolution, I figured things would move faster; and so far that belief seems to be well placed. There is also the obvious fact that in order to stop domestic violence or rape, you need to reach out to its perpetrators/silent supporters; thus making men “the answer” in the context of assault on women.

**

We need men to work with us, not only for us, but also for themselves, and a freer society in turn.

This Blog is part of the Men Say No Blogathon,* encouraging men to take up action against the violence faced by women.
More entries to the Blogathon can be read at www.mustbol.in/blogathon. Join further conversation on facebook.com/delhiyouth & twitter.com/mustbol


*I don’t agree with the name “Men Say No” because it plays on what it means to be a “real man,” which in turn buys straight into the kind of accepted stereotyping I try so hard to subvert.
However, I agree with the aim of this campaign, and this is a small step in furthering its goals.