Mahabharat

 Of the many stories from ancient India that I heard as a child, Mahabharat is definitely one of my favourite. The characters in the story were extremely human. I was introduced to it as child. On Sundays, the whole family would sit together with breakfast and watch it on a television that is non-existent today. It was the joy of watching together that made it special day. I have gone back, time and time again, to the story during different phases of my life and took something new each time. Recently, I realised that it is special to me because the amount of lessons you learn from the story is unlimited.

While there is a lot of debate in my world of it being real or fiction, I choose to focus on my learnings and leave the burden of fact-checking to the others. This recent watch has been the most insightful to me. For those who don't know the story, it goes like this. There were two set of princes (Kauravas and Pandavas) who fought for the throne of one kingdom. The Kauravas fought with their allies for power and the Pandavas fought alongside their allies for righteousness (Dharma). This is an oversimplification of a very nuanced story and characters but I wanted to note my learning from the story and not the story itself.

On the Kaurava team, the main players were Bhisma, Drona, Karn, Shakuni, and Duryodhan whereas Pandava team had Yudhishthir, Bhim, Arjun, Nakul, and Sahdev. During this watch, I realised that the idea of dharma has 5 main foundational pillars: surrender, love, justice, knowledge and patience. The interesting bit I found was that these five qualities  were reflected on both sides. Yudhisthir and Bhisma both symbolized surrender, however, Yudhisthir surrendered to what was right and Bhisma surrendered to the man who sat on a throne. Drona and Bhim both epitomized love, but Drona was blinded by the trappings of love and Bhim wasn't. Arjun and Karn always seeked justice but their intentions couldn't be more different. Karn's intention behind seeking justice was very personal, if not selfish, but Arjun's intention was selfless. Nakul and Shakuni, both, had immense knowledge but Shakuni only used it to bring about destruction. Sahdev had an ocean of patience and Duryodhan had none.

This realisation made me see Mahabharat in a completely different light. The Kurukshetra (battlefield) is symbolic of our life. We are the warriors and hence our duty is to fight. However, it is solely our choice when it comes to what our intentions are, who we choose to fight as/against, when we choose to pick/surrender our weapons, which virtue we use to back up our actions, and how we decide to fulfil our destiny. It is our choice if we go about our life with compassion, symbolised by Draupadi ( Pandava's wife), or if we project our selfish motives behind each action. The action isn't what makes it good or bad, it is the intention that motivates the action. Actions that are born out of a malicious/selfish intent are what brings suffering into this world. Suffering for not just the ones' this action is directed towards but also for the one who acts out these actions. The only things worse than a malicious action is inaction. Inaction is when someone refuses to act despite having the ability to do so.

When I look around the world today, these teachings still hold true. The world is filled with people like the Kauravas and the Pandavas. We have similar qualities/virtues to our personality; however, some people use their personality traits to propagate good and others use theirs to spread negativity. People with malicious and selfish intentions keep acting out without any introspection and although their suffering is personal, the people who their actions are directed towards suffer. People who have the capability of preventing people from exerting their malicious/selfish motives choose not to act and this only adds to the suffering in this world. This ideological equation apply to political, societal, environmental, and personal scenarios existing in the world today. If only all of us could identify the intentions behind our actions and like the Pandavas, use them as the guiding force to complete this journey called life then this world would definitely be less misaligned then what it is today. It would also be full of compassion and that would mean lesser tears and lesser sufferings.

George Street

 George street in Sydney CBD is one of the most known streets of Sydney. It was where I worked on my first job, once I moved. It was a corporate job that I took up, until I got an appropriate job for my qualifications in healthcare. I am an oversees-trained professional and was unaware of corporate culture and I probably succeeded to pick up this job because of my healthcare knowledge. I didn't understand workplace politics because I was a licensed practitioner who ran my own clinic/business in India. I didn't understand fitting into cliques because all my life I was told that my academic performance was what counted in my professional success. I also didn't understand the importance of my physical appearance in my professional performance for I thought my honesty, empathy, hard work and skills would suffice. My beliefs were all changed at my workplace on George street.

 The first few days of my job, I didn't notice any undercurrents, if there were any, because I was engrossed in learning the skills I needed to apply and fulfil the demands of the job. However, once I was assigned to a mentor/work buddy to help me out in a tight spot and was getting slightly comfortable and confident with my performance was when I noticed it. My mentor used a very different tone when speaking to me in comparison to another new starter. At first I thought it was just hazing, which I was fine with because I had gone through a similar situation during my graduation. But, the hazing in my graduate school had forged these deep bonds with my 'seniors,' who had then been as protective and proactive in my growth like mama bears. However, I noticed that this time the tone didn't change for the entire duration of my employment (11 months).

I was already trying my best to acclimatize to a new country, new family and new job and maybe I was oversensitive. It might explain the times I went to the office restroom and silently cried. However, the difference in the way I was being treated persisted. I wasn't really included by my mentor in team activities as simple as lunch. I think the breaking point for me was when my mentor sat next to me with her work friend and began talking about Slumdog Millionaire. I understand that this was a massive movie, but being a citizen of India, I also understood that it was a white man's version of a story he was influenced by. However, my mentor and her friend said some pretty demeaning things about India and decided to end the conversation with how they would never take a vacation there because India was dirty and its people were unhygienic.

I have till date never understood what could have been the motivation behind them sharing their personal opinions in my presence, knowing full well that I was Indian. So, I put in my month's notice and never looked back. To be fair, there were team members who spotted my upset state of mind on that fateful day and did everything in their power to support me. I was also asked if I wanted to file an official complaint and I never did for one simple reason. I understood that those two girls were not my enemies and what they said that day was a reflection of their personalities and not mine. I did feel like a slumdog on George street, but only for a moment. It did not define me because my real life is very different from their perception.

I do, to this day, hold an opinion of them being racist. And, that hasn't been the only occassion that I have felt racist undertones in this country, but I also can say for every bigot that I met, I have met 10 more beautiful, accepting and open-minded Australians. I don't understand racism per say. But in my opinion, divisive politics played by people in places of power has been its source and people who have deep insecurities and low self-esteem are subscribers of such ideologies. I wonder if the subscribers to these ideologies do it from a place of ignorance or blind faith, but whatever it is, it is the most de-humanizing experience one human can put another human through. It is the most uncivilized act to feed one's ego by dragging someone down. And, this applies to not just racial discrimination but also communal, financial, and gender discrimination. What I am trying to say is that if one succeeded in making me a Slumdog for a moment, doesn't mean that it the truth. It means that I have in some way triggered an insecurity inherent in that person.

I have always wanted to set the record straight for myself. And after 5 years of living here this is what I understand. Immigrants (most of us) are not the enemy. We definitely move to a country with the hope of building a better life. But, our dreams are small. All we want is to be able to afford a decent roof over our head, food on our table, and ability to support a family. We take jobs that most citizens of that country refuse to do. We are not included in any positions of power. We are made to feel like second class citizens. But, we pay our taxes, spend on a foreign economy, contribute to society in the small ways that we know and try to keep out of trouble. We, certainly, are underdogs in a foreign land but never a slumdog. Because I think it takes a massive heart to come to a different country and call it your own, and most of us in our earnest ways do that. And, any decent human being will have the ability to acknowledge this truth.

Circular Quay

 I was born in a city not very different from Sydney. It is the financial capital of India, has a harbour and is a melting pot of people who come to fulfil their financial dreams. So, Sydney as a city didn't feel like a stranger to me. The similarities of living in a city that feels more like a giant organism which changes and grows and sheds was sometimes the only comfort to me when I was homesick. The thought of just taking a bus/train/ferry to sit quietly and observe the sea of strangers go by their lives in the city calmed the storms brewing inside. It is ironic, I know, to find calm in chaos, but that is my simple truth.

And, if I saw Sydney as a living organism then Circular Quay is its left ventricle. I would go further and say it is my left ventricle. For those who don't understand, let me explain. A human has the right and left chambers of the heart. Each chamber is further divided into an atrium and a ventricle. While the atria accepts blood, the ventricles pump blood out. The right ventricle accepts blood which needs cleaning and so the right ventricle pumps it to the lungs. My right ventricle would me my hometown. The only place in this world that has the power to clean the grime that I accumulate as time passes me by. On the other hand, the left ventricle pumps all the good blood received from the lungs into the entire body. Circular Quay is Sydney's and my left ventricle because it has this magical ability to pump all this joy, calm and life force into the city and me. The mere energy of this place is so infectious that it is impossible to feel sad or negative. The moment you step out or past the train station it allows you to be sandwiched between the impressive Harbour bridge and the Opera house, which can never fail to make you acknowledge how trivial you cares and worries actually are.

I clearly remember one of the first times I decided to visit Circular Quay by myself. I was literally fighting back tears the entire train ride. I just wanted to run back home because the relationships I was surrounded with were suffocating me, but I couldn't. I couldn't run back home because I knew I would never be able to look myself in the eyes for not fighting through a situation that wasn't favourable. Anyway, the moment I stepped out of the station I felt the same overwhelming feeling I feel every time I visit. A feeling of calm, a feeling of joy and a feeling of stillness that I usually yearn for when I feel ravaged by emotions. I took a few steps forward and coincidently, a man was singing 'You are my sunshine' while playing his guitar. I enjoyed the song, paid him for the soothing his unintentional act of kindness brought and walked forward. After walking a little further and enjoying this infectious energy that I spoke of earlier, I found my happy place in Sydney.

My happy place is this bench that is situated just behind the Opera house. It is the most spectacular in all of Sydney. I have explored Sydney as much as I could afford before the pandemic and I have been to some pretty spectacular places all over Sydney. But, nothing and I do stress nothing is as spectacular as my happy place. You have the full view of the Harbour Bridge. You can feel the tall and strong presence of the Opera house behind you. And, you can watch countless cruise ships, ferries, boats and kayaks passing through a calm Sydney harbour much like so many emotions that pass through a human mind that in its most inert state is calm and deep. And, that was the first time I felt like I was a little less of a stranger in this city for I find that someone or something that can soothe a disquiet mind can never feel alien or foreign. Something or someone who can do that for a human mind builds an instantaneous positive connection. Like the ventricle, it has the ability to inject this very essential life force with no matter what energy, positive or negative, you step into Circular Quay. 

Hindsight should be 20/20

 The introduction clearly stated my intention for this post; however, I have come to understand that to understand the present one must accept one's past. I know my past but I probably should let you in on it.

It might not be shocking but I am not the first and hopefully not the last to leave my birth town and country to settle in another country. My maternal and paternal grandparents both had to build a life in a city that was not their hometown. They learnt to love the city they lived in and now I wonder if it ever became more like home then their birth town. Although their journey was far more painful and dramatic than mine, I feel there might be a lesson there which I might have not realised yet.

My  grandfathers were born in Rajshahi and Dhaka, which are now located in Bangladesh. They were forced out of  their hometowns because of the partitioning of India. They had to flee their country of birth and leave behind all their ancestral wealth as Hindus were being persecuted following the Indian 'Brexit' in 1945. 

My paternal grandfather  (20 y/o in 1945) was the oldest of three children and the bread winner for his family. He arrived in a refugee camp where he experienced the worst days of his life. The only way he could secure food until he was given a domicile (official paper declaring you are a citizen of that country) to live India as refugee was when the army would dish out food in his hand while they waited in a queue. No plates, no decent portions.. just enough to fit in both your palms. He then however secured a piece of land in West Bengal by hoisting a tent and living there for days. My understanding is that is how refugees could secure land in those days. After he received his official documents to work in India, he got a job as an engineer in Phillips and never looked back. He fell in love and married a girl (my grandmother), who was offered a scholarship to study biology in America but chose a life with him rather than a life of luxury and a supportive family. He, eventually, moved to my birth town and built a successful contruction business that afforded me many luxuries that majority Indians did not have.

My maternal grandfather (15 y/o in 1945) was the middle child of eight children. He came from a long line of doctors and lawyers. His oldest brother sacrificed his entire life to ensure there was food enough for 11 mouths. My grandfather was never academically inclined so when he got the opportunity to work in the forest department of the Indian government, he took it. He would live in dense forest helping with developing various areas all over India. He, however, had the courage to turn his back on the first sense of financial stability because he saw some of his colleagues kill a lion and carry its corpse to profit from it. Despite the fears of disappointing his family, he returned back home where he met a girl at a wedding, fell in love, got married and decided to move to my hometown (despite it breaking his heart to leave his family behind) where he built a very successful hardware production business. He did stray from his ambitions but my grandmother had the metal in her spine to refocus his energies into building a life so successful that he could provide for the entire family.

Here is why I believe i destiny. These two strong individuals, who were born into wealth, lost their sense of home and displaced into a different country, but had forged their way through (what I can only imagine) gut-wrenching moments to build a successful life. They not only landed in my hometown but were neighbours too. Their children, my parents, then fell in love, got married and I was born followed by my sister. If one single moment of their life was changed then I wouldn't be born. But, knowing what I know now, I wonder if they did have any regrets. I wonder if they ever really did feel like my hometown was theirs too or did they feel exactly like me. A heart split in two, one part beats for the idea of home we are born into and the other beats for the home we build with our blood, sweat and tears. There is one thing I know for sure though, I am a small percentage of people who are called international migrants (3.6% to be precise) and I inherited the courage and strength to consider this move from my grandparents.

P.S. I would recommend reading this 2020 UN  report (International Migration 2020 Highlights) for a less distorted or politicised image of migrants.

https://www.un.org/en/desa/international-migration-2020-highlights

Introductions are overrated

 It has been almost 5 years, 4 years and 9 months, since I landed in Sydney knowing that I was married to this city. The marriage to this city was an arranged one much like the one with my husband. For all those crinkling their nose at the thought of an arranged marriage. Let me tell you that it isn't half/quarter as dark as it's made out to be. It is in a more controlled setting but my husband and I still had our free will. Anyway, maybe my perception of my marriage is projected on to this city but it has been an interesting journey. I have had days when I couldn't be more grateful for being here and days when I just wanted to be anywhere but here. I came here when I Wynyard station wasn't as fancy as it is today. I have lived through a peak and still continue living through the current trough. One thing that this past year has taught me is that there possibly are many people like me who live in Sydney but somehow still feel like a stranger in this city. I don't understand why I still feel like I am a stranger but probably journalling my experiences, good, ugly and everything in between, might not just help me assess and change this perception but also at the very least let people like me know that they are not really alone. So, I probably will relive my experiences so far and document the graph of my life in this big, beautiful and yet strange city.