as i move through

To a majority of those whom I speak with, I have quite often mentioned how badly I want to leave home. I don’t say that with bitterness or sadness. I only say that i want to fly away from home. Lately, I have been reflecting over why I so fondly speak of leaving home. Not really sure where I am headed with all the reflection but I am certain that a lot of it has to do with the noise. I am not someone who is fond of it. It is always noisy at home. Father always has something or the other to comment on. Mother always has a retort ready at the tip of her tongue. My brother lives in a noisy world inside his headphones. Oreo is ever ready to bark at the slightest of movements anywhere near his vision. And then there is the TV - always blaring in a foreign language every time that I am home. I had rare quiet days while growing up too. TV was not my choice when I was younger. We were a radio family. I grew up listening to the radio jockeys, making new favorite songs every other week. A ...

A week ago, something bad and wrong happened to me. People told me I took a “brave” step, did something right. Many came up to me and told me I had done something that many couldn't. They told me I had done something they hadn't. They told me they are proud of me. I was scared. I was terrified by what had happened and also I was hoping something positive would come out of the step I had taken. But above all that, I still hadn't been able to be proud of myself. I still hadn't been able to say it out loud that I was brave. But I walked home today. All the way from Gyaneswor to Kalanki. It’s 5:40 PM I have my sweatshirt on and I am ready to leave work. A week ago, I was wearing the same sweatshirt and had left work at around this time. That day, I had planned to walk home. Today, I hadn’t. Today, it was an impromptu decision. Last week, I was harassed as I walked a few steps away from work. That is another story. I remember the police officers’ wide eyed expression w...

I don’t have a jacket with me. December has already started. The morning and evening hours these days are cold and harsh. But I like cold. I love winter. But I really don’t think I can say that today. I can’t tell if it is the winter chill that is making me shiver or the anger bubbling inside me after what I went through. I just sit there and watch. I take in every little detail of this unfamiliar place- knowing all too well inside me that I don’t want to come in here again. People in uniform are asking questions to me. A lot of them. I answer it all. It’s almost as if I am reading out from a script. But this is a script that I don’t want another soul to ever read again. I don’t want another living being to go through what I went through today and have to say this to people in uniform. As I walked out from work today, I was harrassed. A person hugged and inappropriately touched me from behind and simply walked away in a rush, whispering into the air: “Sorry, malai hatar cha”. I st...