A short glimpse of my life feuds.
“ The preservation of health is a duty “- Spenser
All the literature nerds out there will be quite aware of my inclinations by now! Today I wanted to vent out about an ongoing struggle that has been going on in my family since forever! My woe is deeply personal because it is about no one else but my mother! Like millions of other Indians can relate to, she is diabetic and serially stressed! I'm sure by now you will probably be thinking of all the anxieties attached to sweets and family drama. Well to make my readers aware, I live in Kolkata, India. I am raised in an excited bong fish-loving family whose love for sweets knows no bounds.
For starters, My father. I would like to talk about him, especially because we haven't been on talking terms since last November. Well, I did not hide the fact this is a deeply personal topic.
I tend to be awfully honest at times and I would not hide the fact that hasn't done me any good as of yet. I have always been a rebel, I even got” dikost “tattooed on my left wrist. By now, some of you who have been interested in my rant will be wondering what that word is. It is a Russian word that means wildness. https://www.wordhippo.com/what-is/the/russian-word-for-d0c00f6d4e06ae94eca387064a7b2207269e8dc0.html
Back to my fight with my father and sweet obsession in my family. Growing up in my previous house I lived in a joint family, with thirteen members. So, my rants aren't devoid of logic. That I can assure you of! Each family member has unique features. My aunt is a fashion designer and a Punjabi, she is the newest edition to my funny and dramatic family. I have often complained about her picking up my mother's traits. Laughing like her, talking like her even, scolding me like her. She has started involving in my life to such an extent that it has become a constant source of despair. We used to be so cool. I remember my favourite memory of her is of going to malls with her sit in coffee shops and go book shopping. This was planned on a random Sunday morning, as I was complaining about being in all week.
My father and I both share this similar trait of taking random decisions.
I grew up waking up on a cold winter morning to my mother packing bags with her electrifying energy and constant ramblings because my father wanted to go on a long drive to Puri.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puri.
It is a few hours drive from my city, another thing that I forgot to mention about my family is that they are deeply religious! Whereas, I am a full-blown atheist. I have always been different from my family. I agree to disagree with a lot of set of rules and conventions set forth by my grandfather and elder members of my family. My father is quite aware of it. He is the person who has laughed with me and sided with me when my teachers complained about me being too loud or too rude. I have never been an archetypal daughter. I got drunk, smoked, partied.
Lived my life on my own terms. I have never been artificial my father out of everyone has acknowledged that even if every person in my life has failed to do so. He sure has his ways to show love, as ironic as it may sound. People close to me would know what I am indicating. And I am already exhausted like I tend to be when I rant about my family. They have their own ways of showing love and ideas of love is highly based on actions. They hate me when I don't listen to them and fills me with unending days of misery. From breaking my favourite teacup to trying to kill myself. Adulting sure has its ways.
Recently a few months back the place I was working from for months turned out to be a scam. It was a call centre job and I was promised 16k. Huge amount for me as I am a college student with taste. Not in people but in books, rains and good food.
As I previously already mentioned I am a rebel but with a cause!
So here goes my personal agenda to make my parents read about the things, I really wanted them to know.
Back to my dad, he is extremely fond of sweets. Growing up he has taken me to all the old sweet shops in the city. My father is a proud self-made moral man. He force-fed me, sweets, when I was up late studying for my class 12th board examinations, he frequently had disputes with me regarding how nutritious “rasgulla” is?
People who don't know what is “rasgulla” is it is a South Asian syrupy dessert popular in the Indian subcontinent and regions with South Asian diaspora. It is made from ball-shaped dumplings of chhena (an Indian cottage cheese) and semolina dough, cooked in light syrup made of sugar. This is done until the syrup permeates the dumplings.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rasgulla
I have noticed how his face changes when I disapprove of admiring how amazing the sweets he got. Apart from that, he is also a spendthrift with getting sweets for pujas, birthdays, anniversaries or be it any family occasion. Now coming to the most important person in my life, my daily dose of entertaining drama, my caregiver. My mother. Quite honestly, if I have to describe her in few words. She is fiery, energetic and the best person to go party with and the worst person to get mad at. One should know that she is the person who isn't scared of scary houses, darkness or cockroaches. She knows she is beautiful she knows it. She is the one with the most radiant smile and most terrifying anger. All her disputes with me never fail to have sarcastic taunts shrouded with deep-seated abandonment and control issues.
All my friends who are probably reading this article will be having a grin on their faces after few minutes!
To make my readers aware of my basic character trait. I am the most reckless caring person anyone could ever be. I am problematic. I have anger, trust and control issues. Remember? I mentioned last November. Well, quite turbulent times. As I fall back on thinking about all those days, it was scary. Me being me as I always say got no regrets. I have laughed, cried gone rogue and still ended up in the right headspace to write this right now.
It has always been enough.
I am more like my parents than I could ever configure. Quite frankly! I am proud of it. They have imbibed me with my fierce loving nature and intense hatred. I have loved hard and cried harder. As cliched, it may sound it is true. My patent comeback in every argument with my friends and family is
“ I DO TAKE THINGS TO MY GRAVE”.
What the haters and low vibrational people in my past and present might be quite aware of. I have grown up watching fast and furious movies.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fast_%26_Furious
One belief that is constant in the series of action films is the idea and concept of family. Transparency, trust and never-ending loyalty. Living life large, fast cars, hasty decisions and thrill is quite literally how my life is too. Well, I am exhausted!
Me being me! Overly engaging in things, people or places has to lead me to irrational decisions, breakups and major abandonment, fear and trust issues. I am not quite proud of all that I am or I have become, But I sure am proud about the journey. I hope I will be too when my fleeting absurd obsession with getting my life back on track vanishes. Quite frankly, I am quite scared of it.