Father’s Pet but a street dog elsewhere

Father’s Pet but a street dog elsewhere

An article by Monica Ingudam


It was during my engineering college time in a beautiful place call Banashankari. I got close to one of the girls with whom we started sharing our study notes. She was passionate about studies and so was I. We bonded over chapters, notes to getting the perfect final results in labs and had a beautiful friendship. We hung out together and studied together.

One weekend we decided to study together at her home. It was towards the afternoon and we still needed more time to accomplish what we were preparing. My friend suggested that I have a sleep over and we can study late night. I told her that I needed permission from my hostel warden and probably If her mother will write or call my hostel warden, we can try. She was giggly and excited about the idea. I got carried away too thinking it will be fun to have a sleepover with my friend. Her mother was in another room and after my friend told her what we were thinking. Her mother, apparently educated and could speak English gave a questioning look giving me some level of discomfort and lectured “There are lots and lots of students from Assam roaming around at night, I wonder how they get permission. Maybe they forge the permission letter ? Maybe they get sleepover permission for studies and roamed around ?”.

I was naïve and couldn’t connect the dots and was trying to digest what she was saying, was that a “Yes” or “No”. I couldn’t even speak up to even say that I am from Manipur and didn’t understand her context of mentioning Assam. They continued in their local language (South Indian Language) and I was lost in embarrassment. I could never forget her look, her look of questioning my origin giving me extreme discomfort.

It was one of the awkward moment where people don’t acknowledge what just happened. We were back on their roof and my friend diverted the topic and was talking something to which I just said “um” the kind of “um” to keep the conversation going without actually listening. I just remembered looking over the trees and road with my mind blank, questioning and digesting the feeling of the word “disrespect”, I was not sure what to interpret but it sure didn’t give me a good feeling.

As I look over the fluttering leaves with the winds blowing cooling my flushed red face, and I saw my Father’s Face with his serious look, I remembered one incident where my Father sent my Mother one late night to pick me up from grandmother’s place, forbidding me for a sleepover in my own grandmother’s place. My mother was to sleep in my grandmother’s house if I were to sleep there. We walked back in the dark. My father was and is very strict. He was not pleased and said I was growing up, I need to be careful and shouldn’t be staying anywhere. I was just in 8th grade then. My parents never let me off their sight with either one of them accompanying me everywhere I went while I was in Manipur. How could I have forgotten how my parents raised me with such care and value (“Yam Cheksinna”) and I easily agreed for a sleepover, I was in college, all grown up and my Father will definitely not agree for this sleep over, what was I thinking ? I packed my books, got back to my hostel.

I missed home terribly that night but never had the courage to share what I felt that night with my parents. We never had study dates again though we remained friends in college and this incident left me with a bad taste.

~The End~

Based on an incident that happened in Bangalore, India.

The first taste of Humiliation

The first taste of Humiliation
An article by Monica Ingudam

We just got out of our classes. I was going to walk back to my hostel. I missed taking the college bus as this was an extra class. My friend’s parents had come to pick her up in their fancy car, she insisted I stayed back and she will drop me to my hostel on the way back. Her parents needed to complete some college administrative work so we waited for them, walking up and down in our beautiful college campus giggling and talking silly things watching the sunset. They took time, it was getting dark and I was worried of getting late and told her I will walk if they will take time. My friend pacified me and stopped me saying they are almost done. Finally they came out and we hurried to their car.

My friend told her parents that they need to drop me. Her father drove up the slope of our college, hit the main road. We had to take a left turn for my hostel in 2 minutes, a small detour from the way to their house. I told them that they had to take the left turn in English. After which they spoke in their local language. My friend helplessly said “Amma …” multiple times which was cut by her mother. For the 2 minutes drive the mother spoke mostly cutting her husband and daughter showing clearly who was in charge. I had no idea what they were talking (South Indian Language) but I could sense it was not good and it was about dropping me. Finally the car stopped in the intersection and her mother turned to me from the front seat and said “We’ll drop you here”. It happened so quickly, I didn’t know how to react and got down finding myself standing in pitch darkness near the mud road after 3 minutes of being in their car.

The 20 minutes walk to the girls hostel could be a beautiful mud road walk in a place call Banashankari depending on the time of the day or the company with whom you are walking. It could be a scary road to walk all alone when it’s dark. It’s very quite, you can hear the insects and even your own echo as you pass the rocky hill with a temple on top where you will find lovers sitting behind big rocks. There are not many people walking specially when it’s dark. You will find drunks walking from the near by pub giving you the dirty looks, calling you “ching chong” “chinky”. And there I was all alone, scared, humiliated at being dumped in the middle of nowhere at that time.

I started walking praying to all the possible God taking each names I knew or had learned of, tears rolling missing my parents thinking if my parents were there they wouldn’t drop me at such a spot to walk back all alone. In my hometown where I grew up in Manipur, my parents accompanied me everywhere and we mostly went out only during daylight. Our Gate was closed way before darkness because of the conflict in Manipur. So I was not very good with darkness. Who would wait for darkness to get 3 minutes of a car ride ? Would they have dropped their own daughter at such a place to walk all alone at such a time ? I was so stupid to accept my friend’s invitation. I was blinded putting myself in such situation, being happy thinking I was accepted and got a friend in a new place. I saw nothing on the way and continued walking as fast as I could playing all these questions in my mind. I walked so fast taking only 12 minutes and I saw the light of the house with “Amma” the sweet lady, wife of our hostel guard standing at the gate. Seeing her, I was relief and felt safe, entered the hostel with a gush of strength built by my first taste of humiliation. My thought echoing loudly “I came here for a reason and only one reason, that is to study and study only, and NOTHING will deter me from studying”.

I studied and studied, met people of different kinds. The kind who embraced me and the kind who judged me hurling humiliations. I learnt to love and create human relations with people showing me the warmth and humanity, and I learnt to gulp, ignore people and humiliations which came my way to survive. I was never brave to fight back, resorted to self healing and continued to focus in studies, the only reason I came away from home, my home where my parents are working very hard to pay my fees. And I never got to sharing about this incident with my parents nor with any of my friends and this incident stayed with me.

~The End~

Based on an incident that happened in Bangalore, India.

With the recent news about discriminations faced by north east Indians in Delhi and other places of India, I was reminded of this incident, an insignificant one, but an event that impacted my psyche. My friend’s mother never said anything derogatory directly to me but I felt a sense of discomfort in her look, questioning my origin and way of life. It’s hard for a young student to leave home at such a young age, coming out from a very protected environment, and to handle such situations, breaking into tears and not able to share and be comforted by parents because of the distance. Many of us don’t have enough money and would look at the phone bill while talking on the phone, and hence the conversations are limited to “Send more money, my glasses broke” or “Everything is fine” or a happy note “Results are out and I got distinction”. Incidents like this are not shared as the young students doesn’t want the parents to be worried staying so far away but it does impact a person. It’s easy to pre-judge a student from north east with different features, wearing jeans and skirts and hence perceived fast. They go through a tons of changes at such a young age being away from home, transitioning to survive on local cuisine, changing dressing styles to blend in, dealing with the indifference and yet trying to excel in what they came for, to study.

 

Broken

Broken
An article by Monica Ingudam

Everyone goes through a phase leaving you completely broken. The reason why you reached that state may be different but the feeling of being broken is the same. You try to be strong on the outside picking yourself up trying to fix yourself going through a multitude of feelings. You go through loosing your self respect, a terrible heartache and a sense of feeling worthless leaving you empty.

At times when you are alone, you can’t control such strong emotions and even try resorting to hurting yourself. And when you come to that state you have to divert your mind to things you love doing. There has to be something you love doing. You have to promise yourself never to come to that state. It’s all in your mind. Let your mind take control over what you feel, over your heart. If you hurt yourself and die, you will be just another news in a small section, people will say “Oh so sad” “Nungaiteda” probably some sharing/comments in Facebook and other social media places. But you will soon be forgotten and people will move on with their life.

Nothing or nobody is worth hurting yourself. Learn to love and care for yourself. Be a survivor and not a victim, make your own story and start living. Look into the mirror and say “I am a survivor” “I am not a victim” “I will not be a victim” and see the strength in you, the strength no one can take away. It is yours and only yours. Get the strength, fix yourself and continue blooming beautifully.

~The End~

Dedicated to everyone where the thought of harming yourself ever crossed your mind. Nothing or nobody is worth hurting yourself. Learn to love and care for yourself. Be a survivor and not a victim, make your own story and start living.

Rejections

Rejections
An article by Monica Ingudam

Everyone goes through rejections at some point of their life. It may rejections in love, in friendship, in work or any form of human relationships. Whatever form it may be, you will be hurt, really hurt making your heart ache so bad that you will cry. And it’s ok to cry. You are only human to cry. And nothing or no one can help you ease your heart ache. It’s only you, your solitude and time that can heal you.

Sometimes you come out emerging strong but loosing your belief in love, life, friendship or relationship. Sometimes you come out weak loosing your belief in yourself and remain broken. And sometimes you are stuck and in the moment of weakness you will loose yourself. Now the question is how to come out strong and drive towards the bright light from the dark tunnel, believing in yourself, transitioning from being a victim to a survivor to living your life.

No matter what advice you get from people or what you have read, it’s you and only you who have to step out of the darkness. Take the time you need but be sure to come out of the darkness you have been in. Open your eyes, look in all directions, directions which pulls you in, which makes you happy, which makes you smile and you will be surprised. Surprised in finding beautiful things in life which you have never seen before and will question yourself on how blinded you were not to notice it earlier. And you will start to see that there is no reason to waste your time in wallowing yourself with people or things who takes you to the dark tunnel, time and again. It is your choice, and only you can choose to move to beautiful things in life and find yourself. But find yourself, for you are special, precious and you deserve it.

Once you have found your place, place filled with your beautiful things bringing out your best smile, you will realize that you actually missed the light. And you can see events from a different perspective and move on with your life, with a stronger you.

It’s easy to fall back even after you found your place. But you should never give up. Once you know you are falling towards the dark tunnel, be quick to turn yourself to your space, your space of beautiful things. The space is different and unique for each of you. For some it may be reading, for some it may be music or writing or photography or gardening or walking or running or movies. There are tons of options, just open your eyes and you will know what pulls you in. Bringing you to a place where you, only you can control your state of mind and no one will ever drive you back in the dark tunnel. You are a survivor and you will find your way to living a beautiful life.

~The End~

Dedicated to everyone scratched by Rejections.