Category Archives: Diary of a Writer

Biblios

Biblios

Dreamdust will always smell like ink and paste

The library is where all dreams begin, sculpted in paper cuts

Turn the page. 

Follow my writings on https://www.yourquote.in/ideasmithy

Tips To Deal With Me

No tipping
No walking on tiptoe
No scaling the tips
No tiptop conditions
Be yourself, only at your softest.

We don’t like sharp edges here.
Except for, well, this statement.

Follow my writings on https://www.yourquote.in/idea-smith-qor/quotes/

The Nature Of The Current

The birthday month has come and gone and I can only feel deeply grateful. It was the kindest thing to happen to me all year. I felt like myself in my own skin again. I felt home. And what else is more important to a Cancerian?

Several people who have been very important to me, are no longer a part of my life. April to June was spent reeling from the shock of realising – they do not love me anymore. Maybe they never did. Maybe it was all pretence, under the garb of diplomacy, avoidance of conflict yada yada. Maybe they loved the idea of me. Maybe they loved in a different way from how I see and define love.

But July, July was kind. July allowed me my dignity, my space and that thing unique to all Cancerians – the ability to feel so much and be completely overrun by emotion while never losing sight of who we are and what our life’s path is.

Every one of these people in some manner or the other tried to make it sound like my fault. One has been blaming everything from their relationship problems to their health issues on my ‘depression/thing’ last year. Another has abruptly (or maybe it was a long time in coming; I just didn’t see it) decided that I’m on a ‘complaint cycle’, that my references to astrology and numerology are me hiding behind crutches when I’m to blame for everyone else’s troubles. Someone else laid bare their secrets to me and then stabbed me in the back. How can a person bear to do that? I could never wilfully wound someone I’ve seen asleep. This has been the hardest thing to bear, made worse by the fact that these very same people have also been the ones to see the troubles on my horizon before I did.

On one hand, I was deeply grieved by this gaslighting. There is no other way to describe it. Gaslighting is making a person believe that their thoughts and perceptions are wrong and somehow they are to blame for the world around them. It turns out it happens in relationships other than the romantic ones too. And yet, all I can think is what horrific hell each of them must be in, for them to turn so monstrous in nature. I’ve been grappling with ‘but I never did this’. Until July made me realise that doesn’t matter. I am who I am and I deal with things, good and bad and love and mistrust the way I do. And other people do it the way they do. There is nothing more to be said in this.

“Because you are a mirror”

has been the rallying cry from more than one person clawing at me in the past few months. There must be something to this. Do I set out intending to make people feel bad about themselves in my quest for truth? No, I think not. But to love a person is to love them boundlessly, above the flaws and the nicks and cuts and sharp edges. Not to love them blindly. I cannot help but see the tiny indentations and the quirks that make a person, them. It’s what happens when you see them up and close. That is the way I love and I will not apologise for it. I guess it’s not necessarily comforting to be loved in that manner. And I must accept that, just as I want the universe to accept my loving.

I went for a dance therapy workshop hosted by a friend. July allowed me a chance to savour my loneliness instead of being crushed by it. I drift along, pretty okay on my own, without a real thinking plan but somehow, dimly, intuitively into experiences that are healing, pleasant and welcoming. I don’t know why dance, why in this way. But it was there and I could so I did. It was different, in a quiet sort of surprising way. I have dance coiled away in nooks and corners of my body, that my friend’s guidance was able to unlock in some way. And then I also have some kind of barriers, boundaries or safety valves against dance in the most surprising of places – my feet. I don’t know what that means but I’m letting that understanding drift about inside me and do as it will.

I rediscovered food. I go along blithely unaware of life’s experiences as they relate to me, the deep core fundamental ME because so much of my experiencing is about making the people I love, happy. This is not necessarily a sacrifice. To make someone I love happy, joyful or even pleased keeps me in a state of warmth. But when there isn’t someone to love, then suddenly that is replaced by a different kind of hunger which is uniquely and entirely only me. How much I crave sushi. How lustfully I imagine the warmth of liquid chocolate oozing from a warm croissant onto my tongue. How wonderfully the beef chilli from Sneha’s would fill my mouth, my throat and my entire body with the summer of Kerala. This month, I ate. Sushi on the day before my birthday with a new slight friend. Peaches and pears smothered in chaat masala. Full English breakfast as brunch with Manisha on my birthday. A pasta with very little cheese and a lot of fresh vegetables dancing on my tongue for birthday dinner with family. Hot tomato soup that is just sheer goodness. A garlic-cheese naan with chicken kolhapuri. Sausages slathered in barbeque sauce. Perfectly shaped omelettes that I learnt to make, myself. I ate.

Someone pointed out a person from my past and likened the two of us. It was insightful. I hold no grudges against that person from my past. But life has moved forward and I feel like I’m too far away and I’m swimming in some other direction now – onward and upward. I wish them well on their journey but it is not mine to move towards them right now. That’s just the way it is. The friend said that I was to some people as the people I’m trying to let go of this month are currently to me. I’ve been struggling to understand why they don’t love me anymore. Maybe it isn’t that complicated. Maybe it was just the nature of the current.

Exactly a year ago, I wrote this. I am so thankful to have writing to bring me these lessons and to remind me when I’m in the danger of forgetting.

A lesson in letting others live out their crashes. A lesson in not get hit and run over. Lessons of goodbye. Lessons in silence. Shh.

I’ve been writing, of course. Trying to fish out my truths from the seas of emotion, cradling the discarded pearls that come up, setting aside the dead shells with love and putting it up in bits and bobs I call Micropoetry or picture-poetry. There is meaning, there is truth. I’m swimming alone. July made it feel like a good thing. July made my body and my life feel like home. August is here now and I think of it as the Leo month, a sign I always approach with some shyness but trust and joy. Kindness helps you find who you are, when you’re losing your way. And when you know who you are, it helps you treat the world with grace. August, I welcome you.

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If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page and the Youtube channel. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

Brown Rat

Follow my writings on https://www.yourquote.in/idea-smith-qor/quotes/ 

Flinch, Harriet

It’s a good thing June’s here. April was awful. May was better, in comparison, but not actually good. I’ve spent the first ten days of June realising that I survived my personal goal of two months of the Anti-Flinch ban. What have I learnt? That flinching is not all bad.

I read ‘Harriet the Spy’. A 11-year-old girl writes her thoughts and (sometimes snoopy) observations in a notebook. Her friends find it and read the book, hate what they read and proceed to attack her systematically. The family and system gets involved, take away her books and force her into therapy. Only a writer who has been gagged will ever understand the horror of that. I have experienced this before, when I was much younger and worse off and it was bloody.

Since the horrible incident in March, I’ve been silenced and lashed with statements like ‘Everyone thinks you’re a man-hater’ and ‘You’re just being silly, honey’. I’ve barely been able to breathe and not realised it. And the words stuffed back into me, turned into something poisonous (just like with Harriet) that made me sick. I was being suffocated.

Come first of June, I switched off my phone in a lot of pain. It hurt so much, too much to make sense of what why where who. Literally a minute later, I could suddenly breathe. I slept well for the first time in months. The next morning when I awoke, I reached for the phone. And then I thought, this feels so good, let me have just a little more. The phone stayed off 13 hours. I am not talking about freedom from social media notifications but freedom from a different sort of poison. Till I dared switch off my phone, I didn’t realise exactly what I was fearing.

I interrupt sleep, work, social occasions to respond immediately, fearing violent reactions from a few people in my life. I keep my phone on through the night, sometimes getting up at 4AM, just to show, ‘I’m there for you, 24 x 7′. In those 13 hours I realised, none of those people do the same for me. What’s more, in the past few months, they’ve been dismissive of my problems, lied to me, blamed me for things that have nothing to do with me, just not been there and shrugged it off with the excuse of ‘I’m having problems’. It was adding starvation to suffocation.

Perhaps this is my own fault. There is an ego-stroke by way of feeling needed, a grandeur in being the saviour. That same ego notices that it is being battered by being made to feel terrible for being there. No more. I can give this up, like I can give up other potential addictions. And I do those by quitting cold turkey. If that is like a flinch reaction, hallelujah, the anti-flinch ban has been lifted.

Shutting my phone off was the first step to throwing off both suffocation and starvation. Lifting my anti-flinch ban has let me just move away from situations that are detrimental to my wellbeing. I bring my best to people (as much empathy, respect and hope as I can muster). And when they let me down or disappoint me, I move on. That’s labelled as reckless, cruel, impulsive and other things that made me mistake them for wrongful. But I need to be able to do this because if I don’t, I am trapped in situations with my unexpressed emotions turning poisonous.

My flinch reactions help me move out of detrimental situations or ones that have outlived their purpose. I am not a thoughtless, impulsive person. Quite the contrary. I invest a lot in people, situations and actions. Which means, if I do not give myself the permission to cease when I say stop, I imprison myself. My flinch reactions are inconvenient to other people, not to me. Especially when these are people who demand from me what they do not feel the need to give, it’s time to take my power back. I’m reclaiming the flinch.

June has been neither lonely nor sad. I’ve slept better than I have all year. I’ve rested easier. My garden grows well and I’m feeling easier in my mind. I can suddenly read again. And now, I’m writing.

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If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page and the Youtube channel. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

A Little Circle Of Light

I might say it’s due to the antibiotics I’ve been on, for a week. My point of view is different but the picture is very much the same.

April brought a harsh 2017 to a head. Poetry has gone big and that means the possibility of money & fame. It’s bringing out the worst traits in people. Poetry requires one to share (or pretend ). So it’s darker and more uncomfortable than the same politics elsewhere. It’s turning out to be a hard year all around. In coping with their own lives, people react in poisonous ways towards other people – by lashing out, by becoming political or judgemental or by trying to control other people.

I felt very lonely two weeks ago. It made me angry and fearful and deeply sad. It forced out an important conversation. I did not like how it went but from sheer fatigue, I succumbed to an illusion that it got resolved. It pushed me into conversations of intimacy with other people. We always tend to think of intimacy as a soft, pretty, romantic thing but it’s not. Intimacy is the tender, slick, shiny pink of exposed flesh when the skin is peeled back. It’s really hard to deal with.

Looking back, I’m not surprised I caught a bad cold. I could blame it on the weather but my body is a metaphor for everything going on in my life. All the tangles, all the unshed tears trying to burst out of me all at once. I gave up and succumbed to antibiotics and blessed, drugged sleep. When I woke up, I was on stage at the NCPA. I delivered and walked away.

Yes, I said that. On Friday, I performed on the NCPA stage, one of the most prestigious performing venues in the country. It was a collaboration with Ishmeet Nagpal and Sudeep Pagedar. Our spoken word piece ‘The Parenting Economy’ debuted at the Laadli Media Awards for Gender Sensitivity in Media & Advertising. It was a chance to perform for the likes of Barkha Dutt (who introduced us), Shashi Tharoor, Dolly Thakore, Kamla Bhasin and Dr.A.L. Sharada. After our performance, I moved into the audience and watched the wonderful work being felicitated. It made all that usually occupies my mind, seem so trivial. Feminism is such an important issue and it impacts every human being on the planet. All the people in that auditorium that evening, even with all their complex backstories – they are all people who have driven things that changed many lives. I am but a minuscule voice in this rallying cry but it is a privilege to have this voice. As a blogger, as a stage performer, I have a chance to take forward an important truth that breaks status quo. I cannot let myself fall prey to such petty things as slam poets’ insecurity or fuckboi manipulation.

The wonderful Sharanya Mannivannan was there too to receive an award for her book ‘The High Priestess Never Marries‘. I think I’ve known Sharanya from my Desi Pundit days when I featured her blog. That admiration connection flowed into Twitter. When I saw her at the India Culture Lab event last year, I was blown away with her grace (physical and verbal). Hit by a panic-attack of shyness, I barely spoke to her. I meet people I admire so rarely now that when I do, I’m back to being an awkward 5-year old. She tweeted to me later asking why I hadn’t told her I was @ideasmithy. But she was kind, never wavering in her treatment of me as an equal. So it was an extra scoop of wonderful from the universe, to spot her in the audience and realise I’d be performing for her. We sat on the grass and chatted awhile afterwards. And it was nice.

Back home, my Facebook Events and Whatsapp try and ensnare me back into the dirty politics. I am a part of it too. I’ve brought my own rage and flinch reactions to it. I can see the ripple effects they’ve caused – cracks in perfect friendships, disillusion creeping into the bonhomie and a plaintive cry of hurt from someone I set in their place. Okay. I am done. The dregs are passing out of my system. It’s time for a new world. A new goal, a new network of relationships, a new me?

No. One thing that stands out clearly to me in this is what the real me is and that never changes. The real me is this one sitting calm and still, underneath all the pain and the disappointment and rage, beneath even the love and hurt and panic. The real me is hidden under layers of rotting tears, of congealed snot and undigested acid but it’s untouched and unfazed by it. The real me watches, offers caring when it wants, sits patiently when it sees that love will not be received and waits it out till the universe is ready again. The real me is a little circle of pure light. I’m sitting inside that right now and nothing can touch me. I’ll be back when you need me again. Till then, take care, you.

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If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page and the Youtube channel. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

NaPoWriMo 2017: Picture-verse W-Z

And the last week of April came to a close with struggles and resolutions, some that were overturned, some that were reconfirmed. My confusion and fatigue shows in the poetry but I think it is poetry. I managed to complete the challenge, even if a day late.

April 2017 was a month of 51 picture poems. That is why I haven’t blogged all month. Here’s the last edition of the April A-Z. The others were my daily YourQuote pieces. (Also read A-HI-O and P-V)

W is for Writer

X is for X-Rated

Y is for You

Z is for Zero

Read the entire April A-Z 2017 collection of picture-poems:

A-H
I-O
P-V
W-Z

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If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page and the Youtube channel. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

NaPoWriMo 2017: Picture-verse P-V

By the third week of April, the writing fatigue started to show and I got a bit lax, skipping a few days and then binge-writing. But I pulled it off. I must add that I’ve also been doing my daily YourQuote poem in addition to these. A couple of times, I doubled up the same poem to also fit that day’s NaPoWriMo A-Z prompt. (Also read A-HI-O and W-Z here.)

P is for Pillowtalk

(feat. Reema)

Q is for Quiet

R is for Retail Therapy

S is for Shadow-boxing

(the day I cheated but not quite because this one is the truest truth I’ve written all April. In other news, the darkness is back.)

T is for Trampilicious

I’m not pretty or delicate. And neither is my poetry.

U is for U-turns

Remembering an ex, but what’s the use of those unless you can turn them into writing?

V is for Vhee!

Read the entire April A-Z 2017 collection of picture-poems:

A-H
I-O
P-V
W-Z

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If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page and the Youtube channel. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

NaPoWriMo 2017: Picture-verse I-O

The second week of April was full of deep, piercing questions on love, ownership, boundaries and shame. And it showed in verse. You can read A-H P-V and W-Z here.

I is for Indian

J is for Jealous

K is for Knowing

L is for L❤️ve Poem

M is for Man

N is for Nightfall

O is for Orgasm

Read the entire April A-Z 2017 collection of picture-poems:

A-H
I-O
P-V
W-Z

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If you liked this post, you’ll want to follow the Facebook Page and the Youtube channel. I’m Ramya Pandyan (a.k.a. Ideasmith) and I’m on Twitter and Instagram.

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