Tag Archives: Relationships

You Don’t Know Me

We’ve spoken. You’ve looked at me and I, at you. You probably thought of me later. Weeks or months later, remembering, wondering why you remembered. If that thought made you smile, and I think it did, yes, I’m that one. And if it worried you, don’t anymore. It was just my perfume, a light scent that you barely notice but it lingers. Just like me.

We’ve had a conversation. We both listened. We both heard. Except you were listening to a recording. And I was listening for the raw, rough notes of being human. I found it in your breaths that were too loud and the sighs that weren’t. I know how to do that. What you heard was just the white noise before a song begins and then you don’t notice it anymore. The song you wanted to sing, that you were always going to sing and I let you. I spoke a lot but I never said a thing.

We’ve touched in ways minor and dramatic. We’ve collided. We’ve danced. But you won’t catch my fingerprints anywhere in your life. Only inside your mind and maybe not even that. You never looked at my hands.

You may think this entails an understanding between us. That’s partly true. You see, I understand you. I wanted to. But you never dived beneath the surface, never peeled back a smile layer or listened beyond my words to my pauses. You don’t know me. You don’t know me at all. 

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YOU DON'T KNOW ME We've spoken. You've looked at me and I, at you. You probably thought of me later. Weeks or months later, remembering, wondering why you remembered. If that thought made you smile, and I think it did, yes, I'm that one. And if it worried you, don't anymore. It was just my perfume, a light scent that you barely notice but it lingers. Just like me. We've had a conversation. We both listened. We both heard. Except you were listening to a recording. And I was listening for the raw, rough notes of being human. I found it in your breaths that were too loud and the sighs that weren't. I know how to do that. What you heard was just the white noise before a song begins and then you don't notice it anymore. The song you wanted to sing, that you were always going to sing and I let you. I spoke a lot but I never said a thing. We've touched in ways minor and dramatic. We've collided. We've danced. But you won't catch my fingerprints anywhere in your life. Only inside your mind and maybe not even that. You never looked at my hands. You may think this entails an understanding between us. That's partly true. You see, I understand you. I wanted to. But you never dived beneath the surface, never peeled back a smile layer or listened beyond my words to my pauses. You don't know me. You don't know me at all. 📸: @unstable_elemnt 🎶: YOU DON'T KNOW ME – Cindy Walker 1964 #theideasmithy #city #cityliving #citylife #Urbanliving #urbanperspectives #lonelycity #identity #intimacy #loneliness #lonelygirl #solitude #defencemechanism #emotional #emotions #relating #relationships #people #introspection #life #living

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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 Game of Eye Contact

A steady gaze is also a cocked gun. This gaze makes the world go silent, words dropping away, identities falling away, sounds melting away and all that exists is that tenuous link held by eye contact. They say the eyes are the windows of the soul. These windows pull you in just as much as they penetrate your being. You cannot touch without also being touched. This touch your skin won’t feel but everything inside you will.

There is a wealth of perceptions that lies buried under good manners. There is yearning, unreasonable. There is rage, unconscionable. There is desire, filthy, savage and uncontrollable. There are screams that merge need and satiation. There is worry, seeping into the cracks  between the best laid plans. There are war cries that are claims of identity. 
They lie shuttered behind blinking eyelids and wavering gazes. And when you make eye contact, you will see your pretty covers taken down to wash. Laundry day for your insides. You will feel the rain and you will be the clouds and you will see it all.

It will be hard to remember the boundary between you and me and the world and them and sense and feeling and structure when…when you look straight into these eyes and they look back at you. You are simultaneously witness and the witnessed. The audience and the performer. The existence and its perception.

It takes two to create and not even a fraction of a second. And it takes one to break it and we always do. Because this game of identity & eye contact is one that we all like to play. Just until we remember that when those eyes shut, there is only darkness.

We all look the same in the night.

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A GAME OF EYE CONTACT A steady gaze is also a cocked gun. This gaze makes the world go silent, words dropping away, identities falling away, sounds melting away and all that exists is that tenuous link held by eye contact. They say the eyes are the windows of the soul. These windows pull you in just as much as they penetrate your being. You cannot touch without also being touched. This touch your skin won't feel but everything inside you will. There is a wealth of perceptions that lies buried under good manners. There is yearning, unreasonable. There is rage, unconscionable. There is desire, filthy, savage and uncontrollable. There are screams that merge need and satiation. There is worry, seeping into the cracks  between the best laid plans. There are war cries that are claims of identity. They lie shuttered behind blinking eyelids and wavering gazes. And when you make eye contact, you will see your pretty covers taken down to wash. Laundry day for your insides. You will feel the rain and you will be the clouds and you will see it all. It will be hard to remember the boundary between you and me and the world and them and sense and feeling and structure when…when you look straight into these eyes and they look back at you. You are simultaneously witness and the witnessed. The audience and the performer. The existence and its perception. It takes two to create and not even a fraction of a second. And it takes one to break it and we always do. Because this game of identity & eye contact is one that we all like to play. Just until we remember that when those eyes shut, there is only darkness. We all look the same in the night. #theideasmithy

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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.

Rules Of Engagement

Of all the ways human beings meet and interact, we only remember the two extremes of love and war. But conflict and alliance are inseparable, interchangeable even in the constant ebb and flow of human relating. We know that moving forward needs collaboration among the diverse. We throw about platitudes like ‘Opposites attract’, a statement that only focuses on the superficial drama of early meetings. So there is firepower. So what? Without direction, that’s just fireworks that fizzle out in a few breaths, burning oxygen, making it harder for everybody to breathe. Look up to the sky to remember what you are becoming or what you could be. A firework or a cathedral.

Trust? How is that to be built between people primed to see each other as foes? ‘Friendly opponents’ is a temporary white flag one may wave but maybe some differences run too deep for the truce to last very long. And then, it’s back to the stomach of a volcano, combat to death, anything goes. We do this with words now and with silent actions that leave invisible wounds science still can’t heal. We cheat, we snipe, we ghost, we block, we brag. We hold up our perfection as a way to slice the other person’s flaws. And they retaliate, not with swordplay but with a cup of sweetness, already poisoned beforehand. Who bears blame for this war? We may as well live in blood-stained medieval times then, for all that we remember about collaboration, respect and growth.

Love is a taboo word in our times but it’s the only solution proposed in every text, every wise truism, every question asked about how to deal with conflict. Maybe it is an inadequate answer or an outdated one or a silly one but it is the only one. It takes two to start a fight and only one to end it. But maybe you are not strong enough to be that one, maybe the other person isn’t whatever they need to be for it to be more than fireworks. It doesn’t really matter. The rules of engagement are very clear. Either you survive together. Or you both burn.

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RULES OF ENGAGEMENT Of all the ways human beings meet and interact, we only remember the two extremes of love and war. But conflict and alliance are inseparable, interchangeable even in the constant ebb and flow of human relating. We know that moving forward needs collaboration among the diverse. We throw about platitudes like 'Opposites attract', a statement that only focuses on the superficial drama of early meetings. So there is firepower. So what? Without direction, that's just fireworks that fizzle out in a few breaths, burning oxygen, making it harder for everybody to breathe. Look up to the sky to remember what you are becoming or what you could be. A firework or a cathedral. Trust? How is that to be built between people primed to see each other as foes? 'Friendly opponents' is a temporary white flag one may wave but maybe some differences run too deep for the truce to last very long. And then, it's back to the stomach of a volcano, combat to death, anything goes. We do this with words now and with silent actions that leave invisible wounds science still can't heal. We cheat, we snipe, we ghost, we block, we brag. We hold up our perfection as a way to slice the other person's flaws. And they retaliate, not with swordplay but with a cup of sweetness, already poisoned beforehand. Who bears blame for this war? We may as well live in blood-stained medieval times then, for all that we remember about collaboration, respect and growth. Love is a taboo word in our times but it's the only solution proposed in every text, every wise truism, every question asked about how to deal with conflict. Maybe it is an inadequate answer or an outdated one or a silly one but it is the only one. It takes two to start a fight and only one to end it. But maybe you are not strong enough to be that one, maybe the other person isn't whatever they need to be for it to be more than fireworks. It doesn't really matter. The rules of engagement are very clear. Either you survive together. Or you both burn. #theideasmithy #blog #love #trust #relationships #opponents #oppositesattract #attraction #rulesofengagement #menandwomen #battleofthesexes #lovers #sky #sky_lovers

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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.

 

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.

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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.

 

Stage Fright And A Lily

I found gratitude in February. Here are all things that were life last month.

A conversation on safe spaces – One of Mumbai’s performance/art spaces and Shamir’s former employer hosted a discussion on safety in performing spaces. We shared experiences, fears, ideas and some hopes for this landscape that we are all committed to.

SXArena: The Third Wheel, UnValentined! and Digital Dil – We decided to try a new format that included poetry, conversations and some simple games to explore ideas of sexuality and gender. The topics of our day were polyamory, relationships outside the primary romantic one, love in the times of hookup and connections beyond the commerce.

The SXonomics Show: Touch Me Not – We were invited to conduct a gender sensitisation drive for The Habitat. We rolled this out as a series of 1 hour shows that combine comedy, satire, music, poetry and dramatic performance to address hard questions. Our first show addressed sexual harassment. It received a good response and this very encouraging review. We have since done one more show on gender (im)balance and have another four coming up (every alternate Monday at The Habitat, 7:30PM).

We, The XX Chromosome: Women’s Web and SheThePeople hosted a two day Women Writers’ Festival 2018 and invited us to do a show themed ‘We, The XX Chromosome’. Our 45 minute performance addressed gender stereotyping, the casting couch, rape culture, outdated fairytales and consent violation.

I started a new friendship and that person came to one of our events just as a show of support. Their presence and their ideas expanded our world view on gender, sexuality and love.

I wasn’t nearly as good at the old friendships. I think after 2017, I found it hard to remember that there were still people who liked me and wanted to spend some moments of their lives with me. But friendliness came knocking in gentle, sweet ways. I went to another old friend’s birthday party without a gift because I had just had no time to get one. But on the way, I stopped and picked up a lily because it reminded me of her. She thanked me so many times, I felt bad that I had categorised our friendship as needing the commercial validation of a store-bought gift. And yesterday she told me that the flower had continued to bloom and spread its fragrance all across her house. This is so lovely.

We were featured in the press several times (1, 2, 3, 4). Ironically right after I posted this poem:

Let me just say life is mischievous at times. 😋

There are days when I fear getting carried away and that this will all crash land. I do love how much I’m learning, though. After a recent show, a member of the audience told us that she had seen one of our early performances and we had come a long way from that. That just feels so, so, so very good.

Every now and then, Ishmeet says or does something on stage and I marvel at how a mind can work and how a gesture or a facial expression can be used to convey an idea. It’s like learning a new language and I’ve always enjoyed that.

I am still awkward in my transitions on and off stage. But stage fright does not cripple me as badly now. I’m learning to enjoy even the mistakes I make, laugh at the times I am clumsy. And that’s the same lesson as life itself, isn’t it? Look up at the stars but also find time to laugh when you trip over the stones. And always, make room for the flowers.

Here’s a handful of SXonomics laughs coming your way. This is our first video.

What does the future hold? Well, Aadhar card linkages and income tax returns. But also four new SXonomics shows, SX-on-Mics (our first community event on Women’s Day) and more videos. And a lily or two.

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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.

Gudby 4 lyf

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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.

Picnic Blanket

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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.

 

Relationships Redefined – A SEXONOMICS Workshop

SEXONOMICS grew me as a performer and as a shaper of ideas and thought.  Ishmeet and I found that by pooling together our ideas, we came up with things bigger and better than each of us could manage. For instance, our first realisation was that we had gone beyond our individual identities as poets and ventured into the realm of drama. We were also pushing the envelope on the usual feminist discourse in our worlds, with satire, roleplay and more. This allowed us to talk about heavy topics like patriarchy, social structures and toxic gender roles but also stay accessible to our audiences.

Audiences across our performances have laughed with us, quoted lines from our acts in casual conversations later and on the whole, told that they enjoyed watching us.

We think our next step is to bring our listeners into our story and make all of you active participants in it too. So our next venture is an audience-interactive/performance based workshop titled ‘Relationships Redefined‘. We are going to explore the nature of intimacy, relationship expectations and the pitfalls and adventures that we each go through in our quest for a romantic partner. If you’ve been following my/our journey so far, please come be part of this next SEXONOMICS adventure!

BeHiver presents Relationships Redefined – A SEXONOMICS Workshop

Date: Saturday, 16 June 2017
Time: 6PM – 8PM
Venue: QTube, Bandra West
Fee: Rs.500/-
Registration: You must be above 18 years of age. Please carry a proof of identity. Call Aniruddha Chatterjee at +91-9769118555 to register your seat.
Facebook Event: https://www.facebook.com/events/581000048898732/

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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.

Thank You For The Ghosts

I spoke to her today. It wasn’t as unthinkable as I imagined, over a year ago. She told me the email I sent her a fortnight ago sounded like I did not want to hear from her. I said, that was probably true.

“When things happen, I deal with them in a certain way. I go into a shell. In time, I am ready to look. But not be looked that. That takes a little longer.”

She said she would need sometime to understand that. And that’s okay.

This would probably have happened in some way or the other. As it turns out, how it happened was that a common friend told that that I was being to her, how someone else is being to me at this moment. I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking about ghosting and gaslighting. These are things that we do, while also universally acknowledging that they are horrible actions. But maybe we do these because we really can’t do anything else at that time.

Match this with our superegoistic belief that everything that happens to us is our fault (because we have to feel like we can control everything, right?) But this is not true. Sometimes people are not thinking about us when they treat us badly. Sometimes they are not even seeing us, blinded by their own lives. Maybe this is nothing more than a bus running over tiny creatures in its path, its riders not intending to hurt but not really seeing or even being able to care about the casualties of their journey.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Last month I spotted another ex friend who had ghosted me. After dozens of conversations about life, love, work and existential angst and wine, she didn’t bother to invite me to her wedding. I found out about it when a stranger contacted me asking if I was still in touch with her. I passed right by and sat down at the table next to her for half an hour before I noticed who was next to me. It was awkward for awhile but maybe that’s just me. Perhaps I am dead to her for reasons I will never know. Perhaps I never existed in her world. Maybe people can achieve complete erasures.

But I think that’s only possible when your mind is so crammed with so many things that you block out the view of what is right in front of you. Well, that’s okay too. I love airy, wide spaces but I live in a city that thrives on cramped quarters. Each to their own space. And mindspace.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

I attended a funeral today. This was not someone that I was close to but they died of unnatural causes and very young. So I’ve had a chance to mull over a profound experience without being overrun by it. Maybe life is kind in ways we can’t quite see.

I’ve always abhorred the living’s reactions. Loud, emotional scenes scare me. They make pain and grief into larger-than-life monsters. I dealt with the first death in my adult life (my grandfather’s) by being efficient. I saw to visitors, I answered questions, I made people eat and drink water, I tended to the cleaning and putting away of things. I was punished over and over with accusations of being cold and uncaring by the very same people who I was helping. I stayed angry for a long time over it. The same people playing that wretched game of ‘My sad is sadder than yours’ do not live with the heavy burden of feeling like they haven’t done enough. I do. They have the luxury of theatrics, holding the world to ransom with their tears and shrieks because someone else is willing to pay the price – the price of holding the world together while they bash away against it.

I realised today that this is my way of coping just as the theatrics are some (weak, selfish) people’s way of coping. Being efficient makes me feel like I can control something. Death, no matter how distant, shakes our foundations and reminds us of how little we have control. What does this have to do in a post about ghosting? It is all about the sudden shock of distance, isn’t it? And what’s more shocking and distant than death?

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Someone who discarded me two years ago is waving furtively to me with likes on social media. I am not ready to go there. Well, actually I don’t want to. But what if I don’t have a choice? If people will go away without my being able to control it, maybe I also have no control over people coming back. It’s a horrid thought that life at large, has no concept of consent. I hate that the future is not a clean, straight line but may involve zigging and zagging and backtracking and U-turns and what not.

I am feeling my age a lot these days. 38 sounds like a very large age to be. But another part of me is relieved that The Thirty Diaries are drawing to a close. I think I will not do a Forty Diaries, counting off the milestones when my life map is so chaotic.

Maybe all we all need is time. If nothing else, time allows runaway emotions and stray ideas to settle. Time lets us reflect and clean our minds if we so choose. And time gives us perspective and clarity. And then, it’s up to us to choose what to do with a brand new day – a new possibility or even one that we thought we lost awhile ago. I wish us all the stillness that comes after we’ve regained peaceful breaths.

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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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