Blog by Fareen
The cold breeze on my stoned face and the blurred traffic lights hitting my hard reality that I am in a Parisien Taxi alone back home to my tiny rectangular studio in 13th arrondissement of Paris.
Was that right ? My mind speaking to myself , always surprised to see the city every single time since 3 years. And some strange voice inside me says “Y E S” with a tint of joy and sadness. I have been taking drugs since 3 days and now I cannott handle my urge of going back to my place. I close my eyes and breath profoundly until disturbed by the taxi driver asking me, “ça va Madame ?” I just left it
unanswered;
Everytime when someone interrogates, I always leave it unanswered. It just became a habit.
My heart led me here in search of art and eventually Paris opened my inner core and made me realize the love I’ve lost, the guilt I have been through, the injustice given to me, the value I never had, the respect I deserved. That was just Door 1. A flicker of years before, Among the firing oil lamps and the traditional Indian kalari weapons, I saw him and his mind focusing on the practice. And he looked me as if we had something to speak; Though there were kalaripayattu practitioners and theatre artists crowded in the theatre after the session, his whole attention was on me and so was mine on him. His smile instantly made me feel so warm, “YES” we spoke.
As a Theatre artist, it is necessary to train our body physically and it is amazing if you can be trained in one of the oldest martial arts in the world. For him, Kalari was something more valuable even though he is a scientist. We planned to go out on a date, the pretty calmest beach in pondicherry. For good luck, My super padded bra from my beloved Nigerian friend and a simple white jean cheered up my look. He came up to my artist’s residency and we went together in his old model 80’s royal enfield. I was timid riding in such a clamorous bike with a white french guy in the villages of pondicherry and Unusually we were the center of attention for the town. He went right away in the beach wearing his swimsuit and I was going in the water with my t-shirt with popped up boobs and thick jean. He asked me, “ Do you have your swimsuit? “
“What ? In India, people don’t really wear swimsuits and if they do, its usually for professional swimmers in swimming pool.”
He didn’t ask more about it , he just let me be comfortable around with him. But Intrinsically, he knew that I am not comfortable swimming in the sea with my heavy clothes on. And to be honest, he was more shocked to learn that I am a drowner.
Have you dated an Indian Women ? “NO”
Have you dated a French guy ?( with his sarcastic smile ) “NO”(me answering seriously)
After an hour of floating, we were holding hands in front of the vibrant sea ,locking his eyes on me and he moved closer to me. I stayed there fixed like a statue, my wheel was spinning and ready to accept his kiss. He wrongly sensed that I am not interested and stayed away from me with his sorry. There is this expression called “vekkam” which roughly means I like to be kissed but I am not doing it.
This is seen as one of the attributes of Indian women. And by then I was one of the unlighted spirit in the darkest nighmares of the society. Well then, I explained him the Vekkam and told him I do like him when I did express my vekkam. He was obviously confused but at least he took it easy. Later on, I discovered from my friend that he has a girl friend. so i curtailed my great zeal and tried to see the interaction more lightly. I barely had acquaintance with different countries culture and tradition.
Out of curiosity , i asked him « Do you have a girl friend ? »
he smiled and said « No , i broke up a week before «
My tender heart screamed right into my voice , making its celebration to each and every organs.
and so
?
?
?
Are you a virgin ? Almost when we were kissing
That question strikes fear into my heart whenever it's posed by a man. My manipulated mind chimed in, to uphold the image of a clever Indian woman, just as I've always done with every single lover I've had. This time, it softly triggered me to be a bit more lenient, considering he's French.
« Yes, i just had sex only 3 times, i think my hymen has’nt really broken. »
So i waited for my 6th day of period to have sex with him as i did before. Apparently i got overly intimate with him that i started to nose bleed over his chest. The unspoken scream rushed out of my lungs and i cursed my face down into a pool of water to confide in. Our dating period continued , inspite of his confused mind trying to understand me and my culture as i was trying to do the same.
Its 8 am and i am lying on my bed after my night shift as bartender wondering why i am unable to open my heart again and fall in love. This body of mine attracts plently of men in the city but peeling off the superficials, only a thick black glob of lost matter is left - unable to love and to feel love , All these thoughts are depressive and i am pretty sure everyone feels sometimes the same.
i crave intimacy
i envisage closeness and its nice to feel it and have someone to shower love
i recognize i am no different but why i am not able to feel love ?
Sometimes i run away from the city to forests and spend time by myself. The nature and the music together opens up the doors need to be opened ; Maybe it was Door No 2 ; Or digging deeper in Door No 1.
The soft tabla music holding the mesmerizing indian flute of Zakir hussain brings me back to the temple close to my place. With soothing of the karpooram, kungumam and the smell of the shivan temple was holding ancient treasures in it, but my 16 year old mind was distracted to human emotions and lost wild in tears to get hold of her krishna. Remembering her with moist eyes everytime leaning on the huge pillars to get her strength to withhold back her lover, Which krishna would be god if he plays around with hearts and breaking them ? Playing tricks to hold attention of women, sucking her mental statbility and leading them to the infertility of showing love or accepting love.
Those pillars have been shoulders for millions of women when their souls were lost, But i am here middle of somewhere in forest in france, breathing free air
Wherever you go, only you can let your tears make sense to you ;
Looking at that two sided braided coconut haired girl with shattered heart, my heart melts and i wanted to hug her and tell « its okay, look where you are now,
« out of the box »
« Inside your heart »
Learn more about FDL Artist Fareen Aslam HERE