Isis

For I am the first and the last. I am the honoured one and the scorned one I am the whore and the holy one.

I am the wife and the virgin. I am the mother and the daughter. I am the members of my mother. I am the barren one and many are my sons. I am she whose wedding is great, and I have not taken a husband. I am the midwife and she who does not bear. I am the solace of my pains. I am the bride and the bridegroom, and it is my husband who begot me.

Illusion and reality.

Everything and nothing you can ever be. I am the mother of my father and the sister of my husband, and he is my offspring.... Give heed to me. I am the one who is disgraced and the great one.

Whether Karma or Kismet?

According to the 10th card of the major arcana - the wheel of fortune - everything is cyclical...If this is the explanation, complications and curiosities arise.

Are life events completely out of one’s control? Could I have led a different life? If I had made one different choice, would it have been all different – the idea of karma? Or would they have happened one way or the other - the idea of kismet?

What happens in my life is more or less the same. The themes are constant, the context changing.

Well, this then, seems like kismet. The same themes in this life and previous ones. The goals that I sought are the same – love, happiness, equity and freedom. These are actually not as grand as they sound. When it’s not political, but personal, these are simple pursuits. Everyone desires them. My battles are also the same – struggles and rebellion towards achieving those goals.

I hurt for the same reasons – the same betrayal, the fundamentalism, the hegemony of organised religion, the patriarchy. Again, these are not grand, but are phenomena that subsume and devour my identity. Or push me to the margins, sometimes the victim, sometimes the witch, sometimes whore.

Whether it’s a young newly married woman in Celtic France, driven to suicide trying to convince the love of her life about her fidelity; or the young girl who grew up to become a cold cynic after being betrayed a hundred times over; or the pagan woman in sixteenth century Spain willing herself to die to escape from the atrocities of the Church; or the strong independent woman being thrown out of her house on grounds of religion and gender in a so-called modern cosmopolitan society; or the young intelligent attractive woman, still looking for love and acceptance.

The themes are the same. Maybe this soul is bound to undergo these same experiences, same scripts, same emotions.

Regression explains this by stating “closure”. The soul needs closure of pent up emotions, unresolved feelings, unfulfilled desires, interrupted happiness, incomplete revenge or incomplete forgiveness.

This brings us back to karma. Not necessarily only of actions, but of memories and emotions. The wheel of fortune turns to remind us of what we had done and what we need to do. The “hell” is not some fabled burning pit, but the cyclical scripts of lives. The heaven is not through some improbable pearly gates, but in breaking this cycle, transcending these scripts and finding peace.

Till then it’s a continuing debate of whether karma or kismet…

For the love of monotony!

"May you live in interesting times.." is a Chinese curse. I coudn't agree more! - with the fact that it is a curse, I mean. Well, change is good, the only constant - as the cliche goes; the ups and downs and the variety that add spice to our lives...but there's nothing more I crave than monotony. The comfort of the predictable, the straight line without blips - the sizes ranging from mole hills to mountains in my life! I know I can't take stagnation, and I feel stagnated every quarter. So I should be the the last person to say I crave monotony. The condradiction in this is evident, bordering on schizophrenia. The constant change, growth, ambition, activity, Type A personality have probably reached the peak and is now gowing down... the adrenaline rush is bound to be followed by a parasympathetic trough. That is probably what this is. A simple physiological phenomenon. Well, atleast if this is the explanation, I'm at peace. People go through mid-life crises and do things that often shake up their entire beautifully well laid out clockwork lives. The escape from monotony at any cost. The reassurances that we seek through change. Attention from a different man/woman after decades of a committed relationship reassures us of our appeal and sexuality, the change of a job or career reassures us of our skills and abilities. A crazy hairstyle sometimes is enough to reassure us. I know some women who change hairstyles right after breaking up with a boyfriend. This is for reassurance and resurgence: "I am still attractive and lovable".... (and at the same time) "this is the new me" (subtext- who will not date losers like these!!) This is ironic. Change, that shakes up and shatters the world as we know it, can be so reassuring at times. I, in my crises, want monotony. I seek it for the same reassurance and resurgence, though. The parasympathetic trough is now reached tidal proportions and is impatient to reach the stability and predictability. But this is again the same craving for change and movement from the current constant, isn't it? The schizophrenic contradictions recur...

The Personal is Political...and the Political Personal

My recent experiences have just proved that the "personal is political" - beyond doubt!

Or perhaps even the other way round. Concepts, experiences and theories that I have engaged with in an academic or ideological capacity are suddenly very real, affecting my life in a direct way.

I should perhaps start with the tribulations of renewing my passport. My passport issued previously in Guwahati had expired in April, 2010. I applied for a new passport on April 8. I am tempted to describe my horrific date with the passport office, experiencing bureaucracy at its monopolistic best, but I will not go into that recount.

Anyway, so I applied for a Bombay passport, since I have not lived in Guwahati for 10 years now, and out of those, 7 have been in Bombay. With all documents ever possible. Infact I had to wait about 6 months just so that I complete a year at the same address to make me eligible for a Bombay passport.

After the 4 stipulated days, a police constable came home at around 11 am to verify my address and the fact that I exist as a person! I was of course, not there at home in the middle of the day on a working day. But well....

He told my sister how difficult it would be to get a passport, since I am only a tenant.

The next day I took leave to meet the cop. He came over. I showed overflowing hospitality (as instructed by experienced friends!). Here a drink or money was advised. But I obviously I couldn't offer alcohol (being a woman!), neither did I feel I could offer money without getting atleast an indirect hint (although I finally did pay at a later date to get the work done).

He went through all my papers. Seemed satisfied. The only problem was the fact that I did not own the house, neither was I living at my parents' house, nor was it my husband's house! This became quite an issue. My references in the neighbourhood was my colleague who has known me for about 4 years - a 33 year old unmarried female vice president, and the other one is of my dearest friends who has known me for 7 years - a 34 year old gay man.

The cop insisted I cite references who were "married" with "family" in the vicinity... and I realised that I don't know any such people!

The fact of being married assumed a completely skewed sense of significance. The fact of knowing, or not knowing, married people who can vouch for me, compromised my credibility.

Somehow the whole process almost became a verification of my character as a woman - a single woman - than of my citizenship.

The other ordeal came from my apartment building society. Being in a conservative Muslim housing society, both me and my sister were offensive just by virtue (pun intended!!) of our existence. We didn't even have to try! No matter what clothes we wore, we would seem strangely naked - we were not veiled; we went out to work and came back at times dictated by our work not familial deadlines - that was offensive; we had friends, male friends - which was even more offensive.

One of the watchmen misbehaved first with my sister (about which I complained), and then with me when I returned one night at about 1 am to find him sleeping and him threatening to not open the gate. I did remind him, quite scathingly, about the fact that it was his job as a watchman to open the gate, irrespective of what time any of the residents came home.

The next night I returned home to find a letter STUCK on my front door (and not delivered at the doorstep in an addressed envelope like the million letters that I have received), asking my licensor to terminate my leave and license agreement. The reason cited was my altercation with the watchman - apparently I had threatened him with some unidentified men. The letter further made nasty and vile insinuations on my character as an unmarried woman.

Although in retrospect, I should have expected the housing society to support the watchman (or probably even incite him to misbehave as a coercive tactic to get rid of me), it did come as a rude shock at that moment!

I met the secretary of the society the next morning. Nothing was done - either about correcting the false incident, or against the watchman. I wrote a letter inquiring the reasons for the discrimination - why on the basis of a verbal complaint from a watchman was a judgement passed against me, and why nothing was done on the basis of my complaint against the same watchman.

But I knew these were rhetorics.

I knew there was a much larger agenda in getting rid of a woman like me - an independent unmarried woman. There were no personal reasons for this animosity, but political ones. I was, to begin with, a Hindu woman in a Muslim society. Over and above, I was not a Hindu housewife, but unmarried and unveiled. I was a constant reminder - a slap on their faces - of the symbols that they were trying to destroy and repress. I embodied all that was haraam!

Both these sets of experiences would have been avoided if I was a married woman. I realised that status in the state and the society can only be attained through prescribing to conventions and institutions. And status for an unmarried woman is never devoid of morality. By being unattached within the parameters of marriage, I give the authority to both the state and the society to pass judgement on my "moral character".

The personal, truly is political... and the political becomes too personal!