The Original Phenomenal Woman: Maya Angelou

Women live under the illusion that their body dimensions define their identity. They are suffering from an unhealthy body image. There is a tremendous pressure on the youth to conform to the society's image of a healthy human, which for the majority of us is not reality. There is a lot of unhappiness, negativity resulting from the societal rejection which ultimately leads to an identity crisis. I have friends worried about their weight gain, when not sweating it out at the gym and trying out new diet recipes, we look over fashion magazines and fawn over the gorgeous ladies that grace these pages. And every one of them without an exception is a skinny version of us. A recent news item took me back to my Gender Studies class back in 2009. We were studying this poem by Maya Angelou, Phenomenal Woman. After the first reading, i looked around and saw the faces of my friends. Our eyes shone with admiration, amazed at the sheer brilliance of the poem and its idea. We were completely bowled over by its powerful message. It was nothing new, unknown to us. On the contrary, we possessed knowledge of it. The poem celebrates womanhood in its true essence. It celebrates the gender, sexuality, and power that it embodies. It encourages women to discover, embrace, and bask in the glory of their true identity. A woman's identity is the confidence, the attitude with which she takes on Life. She is built with it, and every form of her exudes this power. It is authentic, unique and cannot be bought, faked, or duplicated. Discard the fake ideas, be yourself. Read the poem, be inspired by yourself!

Phenomenal Woman - Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size  

But when I start to tell them,

They think I’m telling lies.

I say,

It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,  

The stride of my step,  

The curl of my lips.  

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,  

That’s me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,  

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.  

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.  

I say,

It’s the fire in my eyes,  

And the flash of my teeth,  

The swing in my waist,  

And the joy in my feet.  

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered  

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,  

They say they still can’t see.  

I say,

It’s in the arch of my back,  

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Now you understand

Just why my head’s not bowed.  

I don’t shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.  

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It’s in the click of my heels,  

The bend of my hair,  

the palm of my hand,  

The need for my care.  

’Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Phenomenal Woman was first published in 1995. Maya Angelou passed away on 28 May 2014 at the age of 86. She had a difficult childhood, growing up in a U.S.A. which was stricken with race crimes and gender discrimination. She was a brave, strong willed woman who never gave up hope and displayed courage even in the most gravest times. She will forever remain as the original Phenomenal Woman. An inspiration to women across the world.

Classic Moments in Chennai

Eight years ago, any mention of my imminent move to this city would bring out the similar reactions from people - they were mortified at my decision, dismissing the city as a land with the hot, humid climate, where Hindi is not widely spoken and appalled at the misery of the city whose residents pay money for drinking water. For better or worse, I decided to embrace the city and I have never been disappointed. I had arrived in this city with doubts and worries on my mind. I was enrolled in a city college for my graduate programme, and had left home for the first time. I was supposed by be suffering from homesickness, a condition brought in when one is separated from family and friends and all that they have been familiar. But on the contrary, except during the annual Durga Pujo celebrations, not many a time did I miss home. Chennai became my second home. And as this month is drawing close to its end, so is my period of stay in Chennai. Nostalgia hits me hard, as I walk back the memory lanes tracing the path to my early days in this city. I am already fighting a losing battle against the surging emotions - feeling a sense of loss –What made this stay so memorable, unforgettable? They would be my classic moments of the city as I remember it.

Hostel and fabulous roommates: My roomies hailed from the north eastern state of Manipur. From day 1, we hit it off. We discovered our common love for Shakespeare and Shah Rukh Khan (in my defence this was pre-Chennai Express times), dosa and dahi and of course Korean dramas. They introduced me to fermented fish, pickled mango and sweetened chickpeas, and I returned the favour by treating them to lip smacking treat of sattu ka paratha and chilli pickle which my mum packed when I got back from my bi-annual trip to home.

The 10 rupee movie ticket: What is the price of a movie ticket in Chennai? Take a guess. 250? Nope. 200? Wrong again. Rs.120. That is all a seat in any multiplex would cost in the city. Now, for the student bonanza: All front row seats are up for grabs for Rs. 10 only!! I understand it means spending a couple of hours craning your neck, but for a student torn between her love for cinema and books, it was a good bargain.

The beach: The beach clearly sets Chennai apart from other metro cities. Witness the glorious sunrise and sunset, with hot molgha bajjis with chutney, sundal (boiled and seasoned chickpeas), and of course sample a wide variety of sea food caught fresh by the local fishermen and cooked right at the spot for you. Visiting the beach for some it is a part of their daily routine, for others a weekend haunt, some come here to seek solitude; some come to celebrate with friends and families. And when it gets too crowded you can always walk along the sea shore, footwear in hand - feeling the wet sand scrunch under your feet as the waves come and kiss your feet once in a while.

Connemara Library: It boasts to be one of the oldest public libraries of the country. I first entered the gates of the library as a college student who needed the reference of a couple of books that were not housed by the college library. The red bricked building with green windows had a look of the old colonial times, people buzzing around in the campus with the tall trees casting tall shadows blocking out the sun offering some respite from the heat. On stepping in, I saw a long hall with  tables lined in the centre flanked on either side by tall wooden racks holding books from the different times, of all possible color, size and volume. It was clearly my Alice-in-Wonderland moment.

And then there are the small moments, the people, tiny details which define my life here. The prospect of  moving means not seeing the patti selling malligai flowers at the end of my street, waking up early and not hearing the suprabhatam, missing the usual greeting from the friendly conductor anna from the MTC bus, no more quick trips to Pondy Bazar, bidding adieu with a heavy heart to the city which introduced me to kotthu parotta and mini idli. As John Denver sings farewell to his sweetheart:

All my bags are packed I’m ready to go

I’m standing here outside your door

I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

But the dawn is breakin’, it’ early morn

The taxi’s waiting, he’s blowin’ his horn

Already I’m so lonesome I could die

Boundaries

Four months had gone by and they had never exchanged a word. They worked around each other – R filling the water bottle from the water-bubble at J’s side of the room, J leaning over R’s stuff to reach the switch board, R getting back from work to watch another Korean series and laugh out loud over the silly acts, J watching Bade Achhe Lagte Ho and sigh out loudly every single time Mr. Ram Kapoor says something endearing to say to his better half – both moving away, giving space when the other was in the vicinity; communication between them was non-existent. They shared the room, but did not share their words. Each seemed so absorbed, sunken in the silence – that they were wary, almost afraid to break it, afraid to disturb the sanctity of what silence usually meant.

The relationship had soured, and the situation had come to this. Few months ago they were congratulating each other to have found the perfect roommate in the other, and today their silence was only testimony to their acknowledgement for the other. Girls who would spend hours together discussing work, friends, family, shopping in Pondy Bazar and dancing together the crazy moves of meringue and calypso in the weekend held Zumba class – could now barely tolerate the sight of each other. ‘What happened between them’ - neither could figure. Both parties were aware of the relevance of the question, but neither wanted to be the one find the answer.

Yesterday I saw R speaking to the warden. She was paying up her monthly rent. Along with the rent money, there was a letter with the subject: Vacating Room in bold letters. Turns out she is leaving the city and J. 

Anticipation

She saw him waiting across the road, and quickened her footsteps. Half-running, half-walking she crossed the road, and stopped. They were meeting after four years, and she did not know what to do next. He smiled and said, "Come on here, give me a hug!". She laughed nervously and threw her arms around him, knowing it will never be the same again, she was in love with him.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. WOW theme of the week: Post must contain the word 'Love' and the story should be completed in 5 sentences.

Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden

The 1994 Hugh Grant starrer movie Four Weddings and a Funeral- cut to the funeral scene - this moment of grief could not have been more aptly conveyed as Matthew read out W. H Auden's Funeral Blues dedicated to his dead lover Gareth. The lines are filled with remorse, and express the sadness in a beautiful way. The heartbreak involved in the passing away of a beloved, when the ones left behind can only gather of what remains in the form of memories, the knowledge that things will never be the same again - these are the thoughts which make this an emotionally charged poem. 

My Memories of 2013

13 days more and this year would have come to an end. In the first month of this year, I did not know what to expect from it, but today as I write this post in the last month of this year, I am happy with how its turned out to be. So as I recollect the events, I look back in time and remember all the big and small memories that were created in the course of all these twelve months. The most memorable times of 2013, for me, are:

The trip to my favorite place
Rishikesh has always fascinated me. I will not be able to lay my finger down on a single factor which makes it extraordinary in my list. Maybe its the lush green hills that guard the river that flows through the heart of the city, maybe its the old temples and ashrams, and the evening arati when numerous diyas are lighted and floated on the river, maybe its the narrow, winding lanes, which always leads one to the ghats. This city leaves me wonder struck at the novelties one can find inside its old city walls. The year began with a trip to Rishikesh, and that is how my first special memory for the year was created.

                      

 The reunion with old friends
The trip to Bangalore early this year, allowed me to connect with some old school friends. It was very nostalgic for all of us, and we talked on for hours and discussed about common friends, schoolmates, teachers we liked the most and teachers we liked the least, of course the sour tongued dictatorial principal. It was surprising that how much our lives had changed in these years. Recollecting those days, it was tough accepting the part of these memories were seven year old and we had grown up. 




The Durga Puja celebrated away from home
This year I celebrated Durga Puja in Chennai in the company of my very first friends from college. Much to the contrary of what most people might think, this festival is celebrated with a lot of excitement and fervor in the southern capital city. Couple of my friends back from college who still live in the city made it to the pandal to participate in the celebration and it was a reunion sorts. It was the goddess had brought us all together. We offered pushpanjali, feasted on the bhog, and then went pandal hopping visiting the celebrations in BesantNagar and Kali Bari. Suddenly I did not miss home, at least not this time, not this year. 



The sleepover and Flynn Ryder
It took us three months to plan and execute it. We had lists ready for things to be done, games to be played, songs to be sang, dance moves to be practiced, movies to be watched, and most importantly, food to be eaten. Sleepover at Nethra's was the most awaited event of the year, we had talked about it for long, and now when it it did happen, our lists were tossed aside. After a nine hour long shift at work, and an hour long journey in the local train, our body and mind were both too tired to consider any which required us to think and move. We were happy to settle down with bowls of ramen and sigh over Flynn Ryder in Tangled.


The wedding in Kolkata
For someone who has never attended a Bengali wedding, this wedding was my perfect opportunity to see, learn, and understand the ceremonies. Its a mad rush, with someone shouting out instructions, another requesting for help with the tautto decorations, and then another asking you to go and fetch the napit from next gali. There is a lot of activity in the household, with anyone who is up on their on feet, helping around. It was amazing how so many people were involved in making this ceremony a beautiful and memorable one for the two people. This wedding, also gave me the chance to live and experience the city of Kolkata in my own small way. Walking in the lanes lined with old houses in Rashbehari Avenue, watching the yellow-black taxis zoom by, sipping hot masala tea served in kulhad - the old city charm is still intact in this city, and I for one have definitely fallen to its charms.

Now I am ready for the next year to come by, ready to create and remember some new memories.

A Probashi's Durga Pujo

You can take the Bangali out of Bengal, but you can't take Bengal out of the Bangali.

Being a probashi, I find myself in complete agreement to this statement. We may be living miles away from our homeland, but we remain very deeply connected to our bangali culture and traditions. 

The Durga Pujo celebrated annually in my para in Jamshedpur stands testimony to this fact. It is celebrated with a lot of enthusiasm and ardency. With the beat of the dhakis, and dhunuchi dance, the presence of the goddess fills everyone with the spirit of religious fervour. The dawn of Mahalaya breaks to the tune of Chandi Path playing aloud from every household. Pankaj Mullick's voice reciting the hymns from the ancient scripture, ushers in a grand home coming celebration of Goddess Durga that lasts ten days. The festivities also mark the death of the mighty Mahishasura, who meets his end at the hands of the powerful goddess. 

The preparation start as early as a month before, with every member armed with their shopping list. For the kids, it means new clothes, footwear, and lots of pocket money. The elders are happy enough to let go of us, and have their own adda sessions. 

Once the pushpanjoli (flower offerings to the goddess) is over, it is time for lunch. Amongst all the fanfare, food remains the most eagerly awaited part of the event. The bhog served in earthen pots with labra (mixed vegetable), and payesh has a different flavor altogether. Try what you may, this flavor is impossible to replicate in your kitchen at home. 

Now that paying our respect to the goddess, and partaking of the bhog is done, we move to the next activity of pandal hopping. The pujo spirit makes our favorite uncles and aunts become more generous as we get treated to that extra bit of cash, which is to be utilised for this very purpose of pandal hopping. We not only explore the pandals that line the nearby areas, but also the different roadside stalls that sell goodies. 

Durga Pujo is indeed a special time for all of us, young and old alike. The goddess's home coming is a very joyful event, even more tearful is the moment when we have to bid her farewell. Those ten days brings all of us together in a mysterious way, it's her way of telling us about the importance of family and how they will be there for you even when you are away. My probashi self completely understands this feeling. And, I still remain very much, the bangali at heart.