The First Twenty
Years, 1981-2001
Currently, this is the only public voice I own in india, I
am not part of any of their professional communication industries and there is
no one else to express this for me so I have to write for my own self.
I live with the burden of my growing up experiences kept to
my own self and I preferred to spend effort on reading,writing,viewing what
didn’t involve them so that I could add new knowledge instead. In any case, I switched
off watching Indian or any other television very early and now have limited
memory of the world that India’s or any other television sold,watched,consumed and partied with.
But I also live with the burden of my childhood being
audience to Indian content of their past presented on India’s public service
broadcasting television. What a burden it was, being made to watch nothing other than indian content! No one really
cares what personal wreckage I live by and controlling systems use the information
of my survival and existence bare to them to their own advantage and marketing
others while cutting me off, with neither the dignity of private existence nor
my presence in their public space to present myself to be dishonored and
humiliated publicly.
This personal wreckage could have been solved through media
or arts experiences and made into a lived life but certain internal systems for
whom my presence has been that of a civil government area-army school child
puppet and one that they clearly didn’t want should exist in any other public way made
a shop out of them and then set up other businesses on them instead. Also, control systems that control the innocence
of the growing up years, constantly want to keep me imprisoned in the same set
of forced control and circumstances that they can then continue to control,
manipulate, puppet like the brain of a child forced to remain indoors on government
owned property that they were familiar with.
The entry of the
medium and a parallel imaginary world
The colour tv set with indian programming entered delhi homes and the musical
television advertisements attracted.
Playacting imaginary characters in time alone became the
first influence of the media environment on me.
Content served by India’s public service broadcaster followed next.
There in my infancy and the innocence of childhood they had
created a set of eyes to consume what they presented on their television including
film content celebrated from the past. But not a person they would want to care
for or preserve in the same way.
Even though finances were so scarce, the dream of wanting to
go to work anywhere was strictly prohibited.
Scribbling into a journal started as early as I can remember
putting pen to paper. It was not directed by anyone. But trying to read was a
struggle.
Somehow the content that Indian advertising sold seemed to be living at a different pace than what the
public broadcasting channel sold, it was as if two separate worlds were being
marketed simultaneously.
Incidentally in 2015 some family members threw me into a
mental health institute in delhi using their force on me, to be labeled as a
schizophrenic. Lives uprooted from the
cultures they belonged to and placed in different circumstances and compensated by being made into audiences can
so easily be labelled schizophrenic so that the rest of the life can then be maligned by internally controlling systems and instead of making the person fulfill any of their personal or professional aspirations be cut off, cut away from internal controlling systems using the person as a free show or watch.
Music and dance
Although the army school did direct me towards the dancing
experience and musical ghungroos to wear and even if I danced to them as I
pleased in my spare time at home I did not want dance to take over my life. There
was no other professional dance training.
There was no one forcing me to dance but there was
mainstream film and television for company. The content of Indian film music
interested me. There was no western
music reaching out to me and I was never given the encouragement or money to
purchase any western music for myself.
I did not own or play any musical instrument and there was
no singing or voice training.
Readied to be
humiliated and the myth of safety
It must have come through tv and film viewing or her reading
habit or acquainting me with the outsider’s gaze but primary school felt too
early an age for my then lighter body to be made into an object of comments by
the eldest sibling at home, from the face to facial features, speech to action to
every body part that was read and commented upon, described and mocked perhaps to
acquaint me what a body on display meant. But over the years, as the school textbooks
began getting heavier, it was going to be an everyday routine within the shared
space of the home. Hooking for love or my body were not issues that I was
curious about in primary school years. But as I grew older and agreed to be
force fed by my mother to have more weight added on to me I did question even
then why would a woman even if related by blood, make another woman’s body
parts and the privacy of her inner being her own business to comment on. As the years passed away, I questioned that should
I have pandered to please their eyes over my bodily display to be audience to colourful
descriptions about my appearance or should I have ignored their existence to
continue the struggle with my school textbooks. Should I have failed appearing
for school examinations and spent effort singularly on become a pleasure toy on
display inside the family before aspiring for a role like that on the outside
of it. Other members of the family also found an object, plaything, in me, a toy
to be fondled with as they pleased and to comment at as they pleased. Some of it childhood banter, a lot of it
deliberate hate, most of it an as an extension of the ridicule and personal
insults the mother was being subjected to within the home and family and where i was required to role play with her. Sometimes, people spew hate that other systems have fed into them and those negative systems speak through them, is what saw me through it.
Sometimes, they didn't like my face and it's facial features, other times they didn't like
the parts of my body, my thighs and hips didn't suit their personal interests either, my breasts had already been subjected to humiliation separately in a badly directed scene within the
civil government area while i was on my bicycle early one still morning by an unknown indian male who stopped to ask for directions.
Those who make hate part of their being and insult in physical ways will find any part of your being to insult, if the body is bloated up their hate will be redirected there but if the body remains leaner then their hate will move to the insult the face or physical features. Winning awards or being forced to perform in examinations to display progress reports can bring more hate within homes or with any other stakeholder that uses the person on a watch.
There has been very little beauty parlour investments in my life and i often have had to live with the hair on my thin and senstive skin, i am sure even that didn't make the only school text books
and audio life a pleasurable picture for any eyes that might have gazed at me.
The mother
had her own requirement of companionship from me for all twenty years that I
lived in the government service homes awarded to her, accompanying her to her
medical dispensaries was enlightening away from the tv home but her own
requirement of directing role play for me to role play as a boy that she wasn’t
blessed with as a third born daughter instead was humiliating. They were expecting a Baba, babboo, babbal, babloo to be born to them, they were not expecting me to be born as a a third daughter, unwanted and the scant presence of their visiting relatives played along with them. The mother’s
perpetual derogatory comment that persisted for years together would be that I
should have been born a boy to her and not a girl as she was expecting to
deliver a boy and not a third daughter implying somehow that my birth should
pay the price for it. Since one of the government homes and the space in her
government home was initially limited my place in her home was to share her bed
in her room and remain exclusively under her care and companionship with no right to any other aspiration.
Food, medicine, film or tv would be her answer to every attempt at
communication.
The communication
about Kashmir was always about the past, never about the present, other than its
food and craft. But there was hurt about the news about Kashmir and the glory of the past.
Also, I was meant to blindly accept facial resemblance with the dead
,martyred grandfather more about whom would be revealed to me only later in my
journalism years on my own effort, erasing out my own existence and identity and
over the years this humiliating description would often be repeated, Instead of
the dignity I deserved as a girl child.
The home was a place for verbal taunts, comments, negativity,
hurt and hate, but I survived assuming that each member must have been living
through their own struggles or were acclimatizing each other to how a rude
world outside of homes negates people.
Free Show Stage presence for
the army school
The army school placed me on stage consistently initially to
recite the poetry they would give, enact out role playing leads on their stage,
sometimes role playing a boy, other times hidden away in a sack and be rewarded
for it. The army school stage had also
created a plaything the way the family did but of a different kind which also brought
along a microphone and voice. The army school kept me well experienced with
awards and applause.
Unfortunately, interacting with people was prohibited by the
parents and the work done for the army school stage remained an incomplete lived
experience especially since I rarely interacted and communicated outside of the
work given to me and never lived any lifestyle that should have been lived with
any active stage presence.
Giving time to be involved with stage presence was enough
distraction away from any single minded devotion to only study. I attended a
theatre workshop outside of the school with theatre group Yatrik which educated me about the other issues
of trust especially that connects theatre activity to the experience of life. What the army school had been doing with me was interrupting my study routine, placing me on their stage with lines to cram and spit, with no care to educate me about any life lessons associated with the theatre medium or anything about living life, perhaps they do to their own children who are brought up in army led areas and cantonments but i wasn;t one of them.
It is difficult to put into words what the combination of
the family and the army school were trying to make me into or direct my life
towards as I received orders from home to obey and comments to endure at home.
At home, were they trying to direct me to be a sexual object for display to be continued
to be humiliated in the future the way the home did but one that would also
bring them academic results from the classroom as they sat and watched! There was no one path. There was neither the honour of a conservative
appearance nor the choice of living by your own aspiration. There were neither
the natural surroundings of present circumstances of Kashmir nor the freedom to
mingle with other delhi lifestyles other than a few acquaintances of the civil government area.
By being used on show but never commercially or given any
professional direction I would in the future neither have lived the life of
honour away from any public display nor the life experiences of a professional
on public display. The experiences of being forced to be at home for 20 years neither brought the inspiration of wanting to grow to live in a family of my own nor a life lead by my own decision making. There was neither the honour of living without visible display nor the professional direction to be channelised visibly.
Or perhaps this what the Indian army school wanted for me, to get distracted away from single minded devotion to study that could eventually take me to scale heights within competitive professional fields, neither was i educated about my own kashmiri roots or the indian politics associated with it, i trusted the army school with their using me as a stage toy but they never truly shared the real blessings of a military based education with - life skills or fitness or any other experiences that would nurture me to become a fit and friendly personality. I felt isolated and unwanted even after being sparingly, half-used on stage, half-made, half abandoned.
Limited Travel experiences
Thanks to the father serving the Indian army my early childhood memory involves
travelling to the north east, to Kashmir and Jabalpur to visit with the family and
a single trip to Bombay away on a civil family trip away from the army. But
after the father’s retirement from the Indian army, travelling outside Delhi
became a scarce occasional event which really meant every day of my life was spent inside the delhi government homes.
Camera prohibited
However many film,tv and advertising visuals I consumed as a
child It was forbidden and unaffordable for me to acquire a camera so I have no
camera work experience with school text books around and however picturesque
the government area and its home looked I could never be the one photographing
it. I still don’t own or operate any still camera. But visiting relatives made
me part of their home videography and i remain thankful to them that I have
video memories to look back at. But so many memories of being caged in government homes are not photographed and they dont exist anymore, the dancing, the time with the bicycle and two wheeler scooter, the walk to nowhere or to a park in the caged government area, the miserable time spent with school books and the time spend in the desperate chaos of the extraneous activities the army school used me for and making sense of hate from family members.
Being homeless in government
homes
Living in government homes when your family does not own a
home of their own doesn’t erase the insecurity of homelessness, it makes it
more prominent as you live with the fact everyday that you might have no home
to go to, after giving up government owned property.
I have very little lived experience of army owned flats and the community living that comes along with it. Since most of my years were spent within a civil government area i don't regard myself as anyone with army community, cantonment living experiences. In that my life experiences are different than the ex-army family i belong to and other children of theirs.
In my memory the early army homes were always dark spaces whereas
the civil government area location was too brightly sunlight yet too still,
there was dry stillness in the air. One
of the homes which was allocated to my mother’s service was so roomy that I
would never covet any other large home in any city nor lust for lavish hotel
room lifestyles. But to a child who
didn’t choose to be placed in government homes earned by her parents or be born
to an ex-army set up or in delhi, being forced to remain within a home and
nowhere else with no travel for twenty years is also imprisonment, the price of
being born.
Leaving the home, aspiring to live away from the home, travelling
alone out of the city was strictly prohibited.
But homelessness became a constant companion eventually in the later years as i managed to survive alive on my own in a university room and hostel half rooms and other paid rooms in mumbai on my own.
Inanimate objects
within homes
Away from the family members in my own room and their spaces
I lived at peace in my own imaginary character driven world and journal to scribble
on and as the years progressed I became closer to my own imaginary world than
the members of the family or any other people, I began considering the
possibility of becoming part of the emerging commercial media set ups that I saw
in india. It was strictly prohibited and the contradictory directions displayed
by different control groups.
The heaven of silence and dust particles that danced like
snowflakes but were not real snow, were constant companions within the home
away from people. In the air less stillness of the delhi exterior and interior, the cold breath from the freezer felt like the only cold air to be ever felt and pieces or ice were companions like snow should have been. Every inanimate object within the home, the furniture, the
chairs and that tables I was forced to sit at with textbooks, however much I
disliked it became dearer friends as they never answered back or commented negatively. It
felt that the ex armed forces father demanded that my future should be to exist
like one of the pieces of furniture, enduring insults, never questioning and
not reacting with any self expression and only obeying each of his orders and
bringing him progress reports in return as if a well marked progress report is greater than the student who achieves it.
The Toys i got to play with
Since i was being directed in life to everything play, i did have access to toys to play with even though the means were very limited for me, so i owned a big electronic doll that made sound, a barbie doll for whom i could purchase a few clothes occassionally, a red big stuffed bear, a police car with lights on it,a toy guitar with a very short life span and a leo mattel machine gun. But i also got some more toys to play with when my eldest sister travelled to london for work and brought up soft toys that i had never seen before.
Buried under
mountains of food
With every passing year, the mother began burying me under
heaps to food to cut my body out of my way and the possibility of dancing it
away and to give company to the parent’s lifestyle. Clearly my body was meant
to be kept stationery and not a free, light, travelling one. Instead, bound
indoors, the mother directed me to be the person who is forced to celebrate her
cooking prowess as she working medical doctor had labored to cook and serve as
well.
But it was a useful experience. Be overfed, force fed with
lavish home cooked food so that I may never want another person’s food nor eat
at lavish restaurants or party spreads. Party spreads at home were sufficient
and hospitality was encouraged. Saying No was not permitted. The mother’s
effort also brought with it her attempts to connect to kashmiri culture through
her food, however the spices and gravy to me didn’t seem suited to the heat and
stillness of new delhi away from Kashmir. It brought great discomfort. It also
created an unhealthy feeling that all communication was meant to be stifled and
replaced with food, force fed. But it was obedience and in case controllers do
not honour a ‘No’ , obey their orders and let them see the ill effects of their
force.
It also served as warning signs that this is what the
scenario would look like in case a major portion of my life was looted out to
cook and serve lavish food ever in the future.
Finally, food piled itself enough onto my body so that the
unwanted gaze of the earlier years could turn away and that was a relief.
And of course it also gave companionship to the hardworking mother
and her own body issues of being disrespected by those who lived in the home awarded to her government service. With the ex army colonel disrespecting her even as she served him the food she was meant to cook and serve as heaps!
The house was kept overstocked with bakery products and all kinds of packaged junk food products at all times. Junk food of all kinds was encouraged. Purchasing food products and cooking and serving elaborate food spreads consumes a humongous amount of time and effort that could be used elsewhere.
But I could never understand why would a home where money
was limited was spending lavishly on food and food alone. I attributed it to
cultural issues.
Experiencing this made it certain that I will find other
sources to breathe through in life and not be forced to become any foodie
endorsing multiple cuisines or any expensive hotel or restaurant culture.
There was cost cutting for me in other areas out of choice
of being part of a family with limited service income and I endorsed very
limited shopping for clothes or personal products which I hoped would be added
to my life at the right place for it, in more financially secure circumstances.
But the future was not going to bring opportunities for any personal care or any
set of multiple clothes on display or personal products to invest in, that's the life has brought to me. It was
going to bring a life in India, of further destruction. There was no money to
invest in books outside of the school syllabus and they were either awarded by
the school or gifted by friends. Listening
to the radio and reading the news paper was cost effective.
Over the years within the home, i felt as if there were games being played with my brain and body. Occasionally some image or peculiar word would be dropped into my brain, i made notes of it in my personal journal.
My breathing felt as if controlled where i could scarcely breathe through my nose. Sometimes, an aberration would appear in my brain, other times a sudden jerk would shake my limbs as if technology being used to puppet my body. Many times, as the school books turned heavier and life grew grim, i would find my mind racing for a few days at a stretch as if on a 'high' making it difficult to read and process the printed word. As if a control mechanism was trying to keep me from reading school text books successfully.
The father the only
male
Entry of males within the home was forbidden, only the
television and other media was permitted. Dating was strictly prohibited, the
concept did not exist. There were no night outs or night parties or any parties to attend other than home based birthday or relative parties.
The only male that lived within the house was the father and
that man with his atrocious ex armed forces behavior of yelling out aloud to
disrespect his working wife and daughters, each morning and after was meant to
be accepted and endured. The more he
forced me to concentrate on school textbooks and examination and the display of test
progress reports, the more difficult it became to concentrate on the printed
word. The father was in any way, distant in approach since he already had priorities to commit to his other elder children. But his loud behaviour leaves its bad memories, those ferocious army colonel eyes that reddened with unprovoked anger directed at me, clearly he was irked by my very presence and birth into his family. his attempts to 'scare' by loud yelling and turning his eyes ferocious. meanwhile his regular, ongoing routine of him bursting into loud yells and exchange of loud yelling 'fights' with his doctor wife every day,morning and on their food table routine was already the bad memory being created every day.
No Communication
Any real progressive conversation or communication was discouraged.
No ideas or knowledge were exchanged in any real way with me. Questions were
not meant to be asked only orders were meant to be accepted without questioning.
There was no real communication but the family members ensured there was enough
joke making, personal negative comments, hateful, hurtful comments and insults
shared amongst each other. The parents ensured they displayed their insults at
each other on a daily basis. Being audience to regular displays of anger was an
everyday occurrence.
Only school textbooks
permitted. Fighting with the written word.
I switched off the Indian television without ever watching
india’s cable television so I don’t have any memories of what they sold
through cable channels and partied to. But being audience to music remained.
It was a struggle paying attention to the written word and
the reading habit was a struggle, I had consumed too many film, tv and
advertising images by then and wanted to live within the pace of their parallel
world.
Often in the later years I would feel my mind racing as I
would have to struggle and fight with reading the text books I was surrounded
with. I was discouraged from the aspiration of finding my own creative voice or
expression instead I was forced to study science to duplicate the mother’s medical
profession and although the promise of studying science was enticing on its own
too, and advertised technology interested me, there was enough arts related extracurricular
activity, science was forced upon me. Tuitions and coaching classes were forced
upon against my will, I did not want finances to be spent on them, but obedience
was the only way permitted. Surprisingly the home and family had educated more
about television and films than anything related to medicine or science.
In the final year the army school directed me towards
editing their newsletter which came as a natural extension of years of my
scribblepad journal experience where I used to note down school event and radio
experiences, and peculiar news events.
Marks or be humiliated further
If i had gone with the way the army school wanted to exhaust and destroy me in wasteful extra curriculars and stage display i would have wandered somewhere between f grades or percentages in the 40s,50s or 60s and suffered further humiliation from the army colonel and doctor at home, so instead along with the extraneous activities, i lived from report card to report card, marksheet to marksheet to end with being forced to study science which i did not regret and be marksheeted at least in the mid 80s according to their Indian system, very worth the darkness and loneliness of displaying them as the chosen vital statistics to go along with ugly experiences of being an indian army school student in breast-displaying transparent white shirts and ugly skirts as uniform. The discipline of choosing to study science and score some marks in, along with the heat of Delhi, with sweat constantly dripping down my thighs in those ugly skirts and heat rashes do not make any happy memories but at least i lived through it.
The Microphone, the radio
and the dictaphone.
Meanwhile, the microphone became my childhood companion on
the army school stage and they now used me for various mic holding anchoring parts, the emerging commercial radio is what I tuned in to instead
of television and while the public broadcaster all india radio became a sanctuary
for amateur radio broadcasting experience and most importantly somewhere I
could finally begin work and step away from the home and family on my own for
the first time. The first earned income after i was allowed to work for the first time anywhere was between 150rs-500rs per show, at least i wasnt being used for free and at least some real broadcast experience was being added to my life. Finally i also managed to earn a place as an assistant at the newly launched commercial radio station at a salary of Rs 200 per assistance.The radio temporarily solved the feeling of extreme isolation and friendlessness of the army school and civil government area instead of any people there was now a medium to confide into. Being allowed to travel till all india radio on my own brought
much needed movement other than the movement I added running a bicycle or my
father’s old two wheeler on the civil government area roads. But even bicycling on 'safe' government area roads was not without bad experience, as one still air morning bicycling, in a badly directed scene, a strange man grabbed at my breast on the pretext of asking for direction. But i continued to add movement on the still road not just through the cycle but the old scooter as well.
The medicine aspiration exam forced upon was unsuccessful
despite cutting off other activity and replacing it with tuition and only text
books. I have great respect for the medical profession and compromised
following my own choices of a freer, lighter life to attempt to study science
and appear for examinations but the system which requires a society where
everyone is only a patient and secured only by doctors is an incomplete system
which has cut off other necessities of living a complete life.
Face spotted out of
the way of public space
I continued with a
bachelor’s of arts instead and was selected for a journalism course. There was no science forced on me anymore and getting to read books outside of science was a relief. But on the same day that i entered the journalism course, Government
control simultaneously axed out commercial radio stations where I was hoping to
work and finance further study. I continued with participating in the
government all india radio broadcasts while determined to inculcate the reading
habit. Clearly the myopic Indian government puppeteers didnt want to direct their commerical radio towards any news broadcasts. With the journalism course the personal journal habit became more
professionalized and put to use in the college printed world but other
extraneous on stage activities were curtailed with the introduction to the arts
subjects which really meant all other speech based experience was being curtailed and routed towards the printed word within the college but thankfully due to the government radio at least i had somewhere to remain connected with the electronic medium. But instead of being channelised as a science student with government radio broadcast experience towards the emerging and booming Delhi based commercial t.v news business and broadcast journalism i was routed towards the printed word and was eventually placed for an internship with the Delhi based print tabloid newspaper. I did not despair. Perhaps instead of adding new experience and learning it was more truthful to accept the consumption of all the retro film tv content that India had sold to my eyes and ears since birth. A mid 80s science score from school, radio broadcast experience,being used as a stage puppet for the army school and a genuine urge to learn whatever was kept hidden about Kashmir from me turned out to be good enough only for a Delhi print tabloid internship instead of being channelised towards the booming Indian broadcasting experience! Through the tabloid at least i had professional paid work to do, for the first time i could see the party India had been enjoying all through, i could attend a night party for the first time and get to travel outside of delhi for a river rafting sports excursion while reporting it. So all of these experiences were giving me life experiences to live outside of the government home for the first time.
But through the years of stepping out of the family home my
face was being ‘spotted off’ with breakouts that kept showing up in the years
to follow just as they had in my eldest sibling’s face, the memories that I was
brought up with. But the desire to be on my feet was greater than the dust on
my face. I had been brought up inside a Delhi home but couldn;t even get to see much of Delhi before this other than the occasional government radio broadcasting house. A lot of questions in my mind found a place to belong and several new
answers I was not looking for were also added. Meanwhile the ex army colonel
father began educating me about his own childhood experiences of being
displaced from muzzafarabad,Azad Kashmir, a history that still seemed
unexplained or part of education anywhere or on the Indian television or news.I wish he had cared enough about me to educate me about his great knowledge in the early years of school instead. The college also directed me to visit Lahore in
Pakistan which became the first experience of travelling away from India. I was
happy to move closer to the journalism profession with a successful internship albeit with a tabloid.
I could also earn and purchase my own television set now to switch back the tv
and watch the news that India sold and was encouraged by the emerging, booming
voices of the india’s commercial television news but the ex army colonel father
now wanted me string puppeted away from journalism for reasons never known to
me. He now forced me to appear for the management entrance exam instead which I
prepared for keeping only the media management course in sight that I cleared
successfully but the college instead awarded me a year’s media studies
programme in Melbourne as part of their student exchange which is what the ex
colonel father wanted me to accept instead as well. I was keen to begin working professionally in India and become the young workforce and did not aspire for any foreign university branding
so there were no other foreign branded universities I applied to. But the army ex colonel had managed to force
his own self and life story in to disrupt me and cut me off from professional
journalism and try and puppet me to market his own life experiences instead. I
was interested to question, why. What the army school added to me through their
extracurricular space was being paid back to the ex army colonel with him redirecting
and trying to cut through my professional workspace as per his needs along with
paying back for the cost of attending classroom and the sustenance given.
Some of the strategies used by the army colonel to interrupt the making of any career has been to devalue life, especially financially and devalue life and career potential and redirect towards a wasted life locked indoors. And the Indian college also cleverly re routed and redirected me away from Indias youthful booming television broadcast journalism towards print and tabloid darkness. But the college was also the first place where i happened to consume some alternative indian and foreign cinema that was never broadcast on indian t.v channels
The college also got me involved in peacebuilding and conflict resolution workshops organised for indian and pakistani students. So, there were all kinds of other opportunities for me other than India.s commerical TV journalism set up right there in the Indian capital New Delhi. I was now packed off to spend a year down under.
A year in Melbourne finally away from the controlling home
and family and other control systems, away from the conflicts within the army home and the negativity mock and humiliation from within the army home and outside, in a room to myself i was finally able to
concentrate on reading while crediting the influences of radio and the emerging
digital media, but I also got to handle a video camera there for the first
time to preserve a few video memories of the city. Another video project that i made within the course was set in the on campus wildlife sanctuary, just another attempt to reconnect with the natural outdoors of flora and fauna, far away from Kashmir. A childhood photo from Kashmir gave me constant company on my desk, just a reminder that it was the place i wanted to visit.The Australian system also educated me about television and political big brother
control through various formats of tv programming using films and cinema as an aid. The welcoming outdoors of bright and fresh Australia also gave me the opportunity to apply my body for the first time to travel and travel on my own between cities.
Unfortunately even after returning to india after the year,
my face was spotted out of the way and my applications for television
break-in’s in the Indian news markets never found success because clearly the college system had directed my life away from a broadcast career. Those control systems that ‘spotted’ me off, didn’t
realize how else would someone kept indoors for 20 years communicate with the
world outside without communicating and interacting with people and be ‘spotted’
for it.
I now had to rework the information fed into my brain in
every way and add new information that had been kept away from me.
However, with the attempt at educating me about the
humiliation that there were controlling systems watching my internal personal
struggles in every bare way for reasons best known to them and yet clearly not stopping
to direct me away from struggling with my own self. My brain and it’s own
innocence was kept bare for controllers to feed into, while I was kept away and
controlled from becoming my own self. I didn’t dream of causing harm to anyone
or to destroy another. But controlling systems were using my humiliating
internal struggle as source material to watch as a show and cut through my
efforts to keep me from being anyone, anywhere. Everything i struggled with, with my own self was available to them as a free show, yet they never freed me from it, they watched, they watched me in pain and nothingness, in humiliation and darkness. I meant nothing to them, they watched me struggle internally locked up for 20 years and then destroyed my face and skin out of their way.
The only regret if any that I had of the first twenty years
was that in the controlled environment I wasn’t allowed to live as per my own
connect with the world around me or to live as per my own choices to be freer
in mind, expression and existence, or to communicate freely with people or any
freedom of travel.
I survived, I might
not have. The first twenty years of control systems displaying their fear of a
girl child of her inherent power of becoming her own woman. Control the body, so that the body does not
grow up and exert its control over you, control the heart, mind and choices it
wants to make, so that, the heart and mind does not create it’s own new world and
remains in the same control system it is born into, control the brain, so that
every thought and idea can be extracted away from it and placed elsewhere,
finally control the face and destroy it, so that the face does not become an
identity of the person who owns it. So threatened
were these control systems of light dancing feet that were never given the
music and dance they should have been trained for. So keen are these
controlling systems in wanting to extract everything added to a childhood brain
– the government owned tv watched, a childhood brought up on government owned
property, being born to controlling families, classrooms attended and the price
for attending them, that they never added newer life experiences to channelize it. I just wanted to be one of them, clearly they hated me too much to want me to be.
The first 20 years have been such a blur of bad memory in my life with no one close enough to talk to and the severe absence of Kashmir, its people, its natural surroundings and the education it provides that my personality and being got all distorted within the first 20 years of my existence in systems of Indian control. Clearly the innocence of early years is when a system that wants you destroyed can use your innocent brain, keep away important information from it, feed in lies and try to redirect a life away from reaching its aspirational potential just because control groups do not like your dna and dont want your dna to aspire to become a valuable human resource.
Now, you Indian power pimps have more scars from the first twenty years to use
as source material and market to your own credit! Take my expression and sell
your own shop on it and market it as your own life experiences and those of the
people you sell!
And those whose business has been made cutting me open, take whatever thought, dream, action, struggle, survival, written idea, experiences you extracted from these 20 years and market it as your own! As for the retired army colonel and his force feeding doctor wife, the colonel remains unaffected, that if i am not made into anything and don't exist anywhere, he should have nothing to do with it.
