2nd October 2013 – Nashik
It’s the second day of work at Regh animation, and it has been tough. I feel mentally exhausted and overly emotional. The small sign of home, a thought of comparison can bring a huge lump, an uncomfortable swelling in my throat. I feel my heart ache in pain, and my eyes start watering uncontrollably for no reason. I don’t feel weak, but tested, really. My heart gives up, but my mind tells me to fight and be stronger. It’s a new place, with new people. A new language and a new culture. Fitting in has never been easy, but I always end up finding the right people and getting comfortable; that – has been exceptionally difficult here. Marathi is not my forte, and whether I wear a loose Tshirt, or a spaghetti, I still have a few eyes on me. Maybe it’s my fair skin, or my ‘different’ features, but one look, and the locals know that I’m not from this part of town.
My roommate Rekha is really nice. She must be about 25 and reminds me an awful lot of my old housekeeper Pratima. She has that same talkative nature, although she speaks in Marathi. I am trying to learn as much as I can from her so that I can converse more fluently. It’s not easy at all, but I guess I should look at everything as an experience. Every girl I’ve spoken to so far speaks in Marathi here, and one can figure that they are from rural places close to the city.
Suddenly now my stomach is asking for food. I have drank about a glass of water all day. I’ve not been thirsty, but there’s no washroom in the Studio so I can’t pee unless I get ‘home’. I had my last breakfast with mumma puppa and Radhiya tai. Rad tai dished out a lot of wise advice which I am going to take very seriously throughout my life. I don’t know if she realises how much I respect her and her attitude towards life and towards people, no matter how different we are in terms of opinions. They have reached Mumbai and I hope they are way more comfortable there than the shit they went through here because of me.
As for lunch, Mrunal dropped me to the PG and there’s a mess behind it where the girls have lunch. I decided not to go to the room for some reason and went to the mess directly to speak to the didi about her service. She didn’t seem very friendly, but soon enough another didi came and we talked about her business and each other. She was really sweet. For some reason the whole time my mind was somewhere else. I felt like an orphan for a few seconds. Mumma n puppa had just left in the morning and I’d held back all the tears because I didn’t want to carry them to the studio. They had started leaking out of me, even though I was swallowing and forcing them back. It was not easy. The didi saw me eating alone outside but she forced me to come inside to eat in her home. I was touched, but I wished she’d let me sit on her swing under her tree to compose myself and to leak out the tears little at a time. When she invited me in, I’m sure she noticed I was very upset. I was blinking back all the tears and wiping my runny nose while trying to maintain a steady conversation without a quivering voice. The food was BAD. There was a wet watery red moong gravy, salty watery varan, rice and rotis. I needed a minute, or at least an hour to cry in privacy, but I didn’t have that luxury. Every bite I took, I remembered sol cudi and fried prawns. Just a spoonful of French bean bhaji, a sip of my own chai. The food blurred and I blinked to clear the wetness. I pretended it was a little spicy and wiped my nose. Didi quickly got some water and I shook my head and said “the food is great”.
After that uncomfortable episode I quickened my pace towards the jogger’s park close by to have a private breakdown, but to my dismay it was locked. The nearby pan wala told me it opens only after 5. I cursed the city for not allowing me a single private moment where I could burst out crying without anybody bothering me. I called En and spoke to him on my way to the Studio, and halted at some places under trees and in front of a construction site to compose myself. That was the closest I could get to a private moment.
Work went okay during the rest of the day. I wish I got time to work on my own stuff as well, or read the books there, but that’s definitely a longshot. After work Mrunal me and Akshay had 2 delicious chais at a nearby tapri and then went to chill on the steps on Big Bazaar. I had such a lovely conversation and the city suddenly looked better with the nightlights on the road, a few lit shops and people. I felt good. We talked of films, short-films, animation, Chitrakatha and experiences. It was just wonderful, and I wished that time would stop so I could get a load of this good stuff and store it for the bad times; like fireflies in a jar during the midst of the night. I had a wada pav for dinner, I wasn’t very hungry, and filled myself with water after I reached the room. Had a bath from a bucket without a mug; another thing I’ve got to buy.
I won’t forget something Radh tai told me last night. She told me once when she called Shaami in the middle of the night (in the US). He picked up and said, “Aemi, what kind of a time have you picked to call me. I’m starving.” Radh tai said, “Arre hau tar bekkaar padla (I’m sitting here completely idol)”. I felt that today, and I felt it when she’d told me this story – a surge of intense pain. The pain of one’s circumstances and relationships. She said to me, “You won’t understand parenthood. You feel a strong pull that you can’t control towards your children. A love they will not know of fully. That’s why your mother is worried for you, whether you will like it or not, you will never understand it until the day you hold your own child in your hands.”
Life is so full of pain and happiness and everything in between. You deal with it in whichever way you are capable of; and hopefully, it’ll take you places worth it.
It’s the second day of work at Regh animation, and it has been tough. I feel mentally exhausted and overly emotional. The small sign of home, a thought of comparison can bring a huge lump, an uncomfortable swelling in my throat. I feel my heart ache in pain, and my eyes start watering uncontrollably for no reason. I don’t feel weak, but tested, really. My heart gives up, but my mind tells me to fight and be stronger. It’s a new place, with new people. A new language and a new culture. Fitting in has never been easy, but I always end up finding the right people and getting comfortable; that – has been exceptionally difficult here. Marathi is not my forte, and whether I wear a loose Tshirt, or a spaghetti, I still have a few eyes on me. Maybe it’s my fair skin, or my ‘different’ features, but one look, and the locals know that I’m not from this part of town.
My roommate Rekha is really nice. She must be about 25 and reminds me an awful lot of my old housekeeper Pratima. She has that same talkative nature, although she speaks in Marathi. I am trying to learn as much as I can from her so that I can converse more fluently. It’s not easy at all, but I guess I should look at everything as an experience. Every girl I’ve spoken to so far speaks in Marathi here, and one can figure that they are from rural places close to the city.
Suddenly now my stomach is asking for food. I have drank about a glass of water all day. I’ve not been thirsty, but there’s no washroom in the Studio so I can’t pee unless I get ‘home’. I had my last breakfast with mumma puppa and Radhiya tai. Rad tai dished out a lot of wise advice which I am going to take very seriously throughout my life. I don’t know if she realises how much I respect her and her attitude towards life and towards people, no matter how different we are in terms of opinions. They have reached Mumbai and I hope they are way more comfortable there than the shit they went through here because of me.
As for lunch, Mrunal dropped me to the PG and there’s a mess behind it where the girls have lunch. I decided not to go to the room for some reason and went to the mess directly to speak to the didi about her service. She didn’t seem very friendly, but soon enough another didi came and we talked about her business and each other. She was really sweet. For some reason the whole time my mind was somewhere else. I felt like an orphan for a few seconds. Mumma n puppa had just left in the morning and I’d held back all the tears because I didn’t want to carry them to the studio. They had started leaking out of me, even though I was swallowing and forcing them back. It was not easy. The didi saw me eating alone outside but she forced me to come inside to eat in her home. I was touched, but I wished she’d let me sit on her swing under her tree to compose myself and to leak out the tears little at a time. When she invited me in, I’m sure she noticed I was very upset. I was blinking back all the tears and wiping my runny nose while trying to maintain a steady conversation without a quivering voice. The food was BAD. There was a wet watery red moong gravy, salty watery varan, rice and rotis. I needed a minute, or at least an hour to cry in privacy, but I didn’t have that luxury. Every bite I took, I remembered sol cudi and fried prawns. Just a spoonful of French bean bhaji, a sip of my own chai. The food blurred and I blinked to clear the wetness. I pretended it was a little spicy and wiped my nose. Didi quickly got some water and I shook my head and said “the food is great”.
After that uncomfortable episode I quickened my pace towards the jogger’s park close by to have a private breakdown, but to my dismay it was locked. The nearby pan wala told me it opens only after 5. I cursed the city for not allowing me a single private moment where I could burst out crying without anybody bothering me. I called En and spoke to him on my way to the Studio, and halted at some places under trees and in front of a construction site to compose myself. That was the closest I could get to a private moment.
Work went okay during the rest of the day. I wish I got time to work on my own stuff as well, or read the books there, but that’s definitely a longshot. After work Mrunal me and Akshay had 2 delicious chais at a nearby tapri and then went to chill on the steps on Big Bazaar. I had such a lovely conversation and the city suddenly looked better with the nightlights on the road, a few lit shops and people. I felt good. We talked of films, short-films, animation, Chitrakatha and experiences. It was just wonderful, and I wished that time would stop so I could get a load of this good stuff and store it for the bad times; like fireflies in a jar during the midst of the night. I had a wada pav for dinner, I wasn’t very hungry, and filled myself with water after I reached the room. Had a bath from a bucket without a mug; another thing I’ve got to buy.
I won’t forget something Radh tai told me last night. She told me once when she called Shaami in the middle of the night (in the US). He picked up and said, “Aemi, what kind of a time have you picked to call me. I’m starving.” Radh tai said, “Arre hau tar bekkaar padla (I’m sitting here completely idol)”. I felt that today, and I felt it when she’d told me this story – a surge of intense pain. The pain of one’s circumstances and relationships. She said to me, “You won’t understand parenthood. You feel a strong pull that you can’t control towards your children. A love they will not know of fully. That’s why your mother is worried for you, whether you will like it or not, you will never understand it until the day you hold your own child in your hands.”
Life is so full of pain and happiness and everything in between. You deal with it in whichever way you are capable of; and hopefully, it’ll take you places worth it.
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