Tag Archives: Identity

All That You’re Not

Don’t hang yourself on the noose of someone else’s attachment. It’s nice to feel needed but nice is an illusory trap. You are the sand and the ash inside a dormant volcano. You won’t be held inside a fist or even an embrace that breaks at the first sign of heat.

Do not shatter over the sound and fury that is the face of a person’s humanity turning on itself. You are not glass, not paper, not wood, not stone. You are the center unbound, holding the chaos outward. You are the eye of the universal storm. You won’t be snuffed out by a few angry breaths.

Don’t string yourself together on other people’s definitions. Those thoughts are full of knots, ones they’ll never care to disentangle because they’re about someobody else. You are the water of churning whirlpools. You won’t be contained in a net that tears and loops so easily and is discarded like straggling threads.

Do not find yourself in tatters when toxic thought and poisonous words infect your being. You are not the wastelands laid bare in these fumes. You are the chemistry that gives everything a place, a season, an identity. You are all that was and also all that comes after – the death, the survivor, the guilt, the redemption and the reprise.

You are more than can be imagined. Take the rest of your life to find out what all. 

==============================================================

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.

Being The Story

Yesterday I ran into a friend. The last time we met, this friend visited me at a new home I was building. I was also newly engaged. So obviously, that would be the starting point of our conversation, a picking up where the thread dropped off. I rolled my eyes wryly and said,

“So much has happened since then. I don’t live there anymore. I’m not engaged anymore.”

My friend’s immediate, almost urgent reply was,

“My good friend is close to him so I will not comment.”

I have navigated hundreds of such conversations in the past six years.

I had a (somewhat) public relationship. Given that I write about relationships and the fact that they form such an important part of my existence, I found it hard not to. Shutting up about that would essentially mean to quit blogging, which would be akin to losing a kidney, a limb and maybe a few other vital organs. But my partner was not an open individual (quite the opposite) and I felt I had to respect his privacy too. So I have never mentioned him by name and I have only sparingly offered details of our relationship, while trying to be honest and open about my own feelings and thoughts (these are mine and I’ve never felt the need to have anyone else’s permission to share them). This has been the trickiest juggling I’ve done in all my adventures with anonymity since I began in 2004.

I didn’t have a chance to think about how this would turn out, if we parted ways. And given how suddenly everything crashed, I barely made it out alive, let alone with enough stability to think clearly. The thing with sudden disasters is that you don’t get time to stop and collect your thoughts. The world hits you with life, even as you’re still lying on the ground with your heart ripped open, bleeding from wounds you didn’t even realise had opened up and were being systematically poisoned. You just learn to cope and hope to heal on the fly, as you get carried along on the rollercoaster ride called life.

In six years, I have run into, got back in touch with and in some way reconnected with possibly hundreds of people. Most people in my world have some connection to my narrative through my blogs, my work and having interacted with me on digital. I have tried to keep my narrative as true to myself but it has to be a filtered, edited one, for reasons of safety and respecting the privacy of other people connected with me. This includes exes, even the ones who have behaved in very, very bad ways.

Last year a friend screenshotted something my ex had put up and sent it to me. I wish she hadn’t. I was not even thinking about him and seeing this forced me to remember his existence in an unnecessarily immediate and close way. She said she thought it would make me feel better but it didn’t.

A few months ago, somebody else told me about someone who liked my ex. They said they were concerned about this person and that they were making a terrible choice. I get that concern. But I don’t get what I am supposed to do in this. This story has nothing to do with me.

Now…

“My good friend is close to him so I will not comment.”

I felt knocked for a loop by my friend’s statement. Because I was starting a conversation and their response was a very clear iron-curtain style wall. The last thing that was called that was part of something the world knew as Cold War. Why did my friend feel the need to rush in with that statement when I had not even asked for comment? Possibly they thought I was seeking validation, asking for them to join me in bashing my ex. I wasn’t. I was just telling my story.

But, in the very act of writing this down, I feel my balance restore itself to normal. I cannot fault my friend for not thinking this through. After all, they haven’t seen me in years. I can also see the good intentions behind the actions of the other friends. They were offering commiseration in their own awkward ways. They were also trusting that I would act with sanity rather than viciousness and while that is overwhelming, it is also inspiring. Maybe I can be that person if people think I can be. I write a narrative that is one that inspires me. And I can only write it if I live it. I am so glad to be a writer.

 

The difficulty in writing your own story is having to explain every word and every edit. But maybe that is also the best thing about it. Remembering the story, that’s all that’s important. The story of me.

===============================================================

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.

 

Every Traveller Is A Treasure Seeker

===============================================================

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.

Don’t Fix Me


Don’t Fix Me

You can’t fix a jigsaw puzzle. It’s already perfect, whether you are able to put it together or not. 

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

PUSHY

Your identity is not contained in a box called a label. It’s a force that grows, pulsates, pushes. Constantly, till you are dead. And it starts when you’re being born.

Push. Push, now.

===============================================================

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.

Why Are So Many Mumbaikers Desperate To Kill Time?

Around a fortnight ago, a Caferati feedback meet I was at, was disrupted by a newcomer who started shouting at all of us and attacking us for giving feedback. It was deeply unpleasant and ruined the evening for everyone else. I wrote it off as that person being the kind of anamoly that one sometimes has to encounter. Why else would someone attack a feedback group for giving feedback?
Today, I’ve just declined nearly 50 requests to join Alphabet Sambar because they don’t write. Over the past few months, we’ve been getting a lot of requests and true to our original premise, we try and welcome everyone. But we’ve been getting a lot of irrelevant messages like “Good morning, have a great day”, jokes and pictures of food that have nothing to do with writing. Do people not understand how interest groups work? This by the way, is despite the fact that Alphabet Sambar has a very clearly stated description including the sentence ‘Please consider joining only if you yourself write‘.
 
At most offline events I go to (social media meets, board games events, standup comedy shows, poetry events, music events, bicycling trips), there is always a sizeable number of people who have no interest in what’s going on. What’s a person who doesn’t bicycle doing on a trip? Or someone who thinks board games are boring and stupid, spending an evening where everyone is at a board? 
We could crib about the general uselessness of people who only disrupt proceedings and don’t contribute. Enough has been said about desperate Indian men who only want ‘to make fransheep’. But I think there’s something larger at play.
 
A lot of urban Indians are desperate for companionship, a normal human need. But many of them also lack tangible hobbies, interests, ideas of their own or social skills. They mob places that other people go to, in some sort of dim hope of making connections. They don’t know what to say or what to do. Sometimes this comes through as gaucherie, sometimes it’s aggression. And it causes further animosity, politics and exclusivity with the original activity or hobby being completely lost.
Before you think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, I’m basing this is on massive numbers of people who seem to have no reason to be at some of these events but are. Isn’t there a problem if, in a time-starved city, there are so many people just looking for ways to kill time? A hobby is a very important part of making a human being, a well-rounded one. Many of these people I encounter are well-educated and successful. But they appear to be nothing beyond their careers and their families. How is it that having an identity beyond one’s source of income is such a rare thing?
I don’t know other cities adequately but I’m told by friends and associates that it’s no different in Delhi or Bangalore. Are we making a country of people completely deficient in the vital skills of being human? Something feels terribly wrong.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —— — — — — — — — — —

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.

I for I

I is for Ideasmith, a figment of my imagination.

I is for me, I stand distinct from you all and them all.

I is for an idea; that’s everything and that’s all it ever was.

I is for all the mes that pleased you and you and them too.

I is for everyone else inside me that hits back, rescues me from you.

I is a maze, a trap, a funhouse in Joker’s dungeons.

I is for a word everyone calls their own.

I is a place I’m not at anymore.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — ——— — — — — — — — — ——

*I is also for Isha who brought me back to poetry.I

Follow the April 2015 AtoZ HERE.

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

Identity

Identity is such a fluctuating, fluid notion and yet we base our lives on it.

Ideamarked Feb2011: Tattoos, Internet Architecture, Film Awards, Ecospeak & 7 Khoon Maaf

February, never one to drag on, has practically whizzed by this year. There was the Kala Ghoda Art Festival (and the first time I was an active member through my session at the Write Click workshop). There was Valentine’s Day (yes, of course I celebrated it!) and a number of other sweet things. I discovered a new interest in cooking and in food-writing, which resulted in a new blog, Plain Salted. All in all, I didn’t link to as many places as I would have liked to. So here’s me keeping it short and sweet for February 2011:

  • The online population explosion leading to the same lack of space as in the real world. Will we be able to rebuild the Internet in time? (via The Economist)
  • A sweet story on love, life, growing up and tattoos: “Renewing a tattoo: Modern Love” (via The New York Times, link courtesy Lakshmi Jagad)
  • A beautiful piece, full of yearning on home and identity: “Far from home…” (via Snowflake Whispers)
  • The Ten Commandments of telecasting film industry award shows (via Arcopol Chaudhuri)
  • The things I wish I could afford! A Stella McCartney floral jacket over a pretty dress and with a great hat and bag *WANT* (via HighHeelConfidential)
  • A poem about the fleeting nature of love and desire (via Randomness)
  • Demystifying biodegradable plastic and its applications (via Eccentricspeak)
  • A chat with Priyanka about who the seventh murder in 7 Khoon Maaf really was. (via Facebook)
  • A Ruskin Bond story, a Vishal Bharadwaj film and Usha Uthup’s saucy voice lured me into the theatre. The only good thing I carried out of the movie was this song that is still running in my head. (via YouTube)
%d bloggers like this: