khabi kushi, khabi gham

Dearest shadow,


i tried to write this post twice today. unsuccessfully. Thought i'd put it off. because i've not planned for tmrw. and because i need to wake at 645 tmrw. but i cannot go to sleep because the thought of not writing when i meant to write just irritates and nags me. i feel emotional and think this is going to be long and incoherent. so here goes. third time lucky.


Today was an outing day. Since my team won a lil competition, we got 600 dollars...and we all decided to go out to a certain hotel for hi-tea. is that how you spell it? anyway. The hi tea was amazing. it left in such high spirits. being able to shake off two of the idiots in my team...who voluntarily did not come...and being able to actually eat and talk over yummy food was a really nice experience. We had a lot of laughs. and when we finished, we took pictures and three of my colleagues and i decided to walk around far east plaza. I never frequented the place. but for some reason, it always represented my youthful wanderings....times when people always said that the stuff they had was from far east. it just seemed to be such a wow place. i'd just see the place from 190 whenever i went for music classes....


today was an interesting experience. walking around and talking with people i'd not normally talk to. or shop with. or eat lunch with. eventually i ran out of things to talk and i started to feel a bit weird. i managed with my i'm-just-sleepy-excuse... i went to my favourite store to get my weird earrings...and then we went back home. Although i managed to talk to them, i realised that i was actually behaving myself. not letting loose. not being weird. not switching topics like i always do. and not eating as much as i usually do. It struck me....how special some people are in my life. that no matter how much i do not talk to them, they'll still give me their love, laughter, prayers and maybe a blood donation if i need one.


I came back home, didnt feel like showering and went to the toilet to wash my feet. my mom was in the kitchen and told me that i had put on some weight...that my stomach was bulging a little bit and so were my sides. i had a second confirmation that i now look slightly bigger and rubbed my tummy a little bit. I changed in the toilet and then when i came back to my room, i saw my mom sitting on my bed, with my phone in hand. she looked a little bit startled....her eyes darted and she was finding words, almost like a justification in her voice when i asked her what she was doing....i asked very casually...uh, what happened..


and she went: oh, no, nothing. just holding your phone.

so i asked. you need to send a message?

ah yes. can you send your dad a message asking him what time he's coming? whether he has classes.

so i took my phone and i realised that the keypad was unlocked. but told my brain not to think of anything out of the ordinary.but as she left my room, her body language was odd. she seemed in a hurry...not to check on the cooking but just to perhaps leave.


maybe i'm reading into it. literature majors are trained to do that. but what is an sms illiterate woman doing with my phone? trying to sms? she cannot set alarms, add entries into the phone book, change calender dates, listen to voice messages or check her own inbox for that matter. i went after her asking what the message was again and she changed the subject. so i concluded that she was checking up on me again. and so i changed the subject too...asking if 1000 for a trip to china was expensive.....

she replied with: when are you getting a new line? if you get a new line, i'll probably take your phone.


i replied quite sternly....asking her if she actually listen to me. and obviously she did not. she was quite shaken to have been caught red handed, looking thru my stuff. and still finding the words to make it all seem very casual. like nothing was up. afraid almost that i'll ask her what she was really up to.


i think if i had a pistol, i'd have held her at gunpoint many times in my life. I remind myself that despite of my blood relationship with her, i have no other personal connection. I love her and respect her because she demands it. by way of saying it out loud whenever i breach the love and trust she is supposed to receive because of the fact that i am her daughter.


My teenage years were full of my mother's checking up on me. she read my diaries. she looked through my things. my clothes...asking me where i got them, how come i have them. she checked my bag in the morning, when i was caught off guard and i would not fight. once, she found a necklace i bought for myself. it was made of silver cubes and it spelt my name. she interrogated me. why i bought it. when i bought it. do i intend to advertise my name to the world. who i want to tell my name to.

So i rebelled by getting something very similar. it was made of plastic. much bigger. maybe font size 36 compared to font size 12. it also spelt my name. two cubes were actually hot pink. but i got it anyway and fashioned it myself during woodwork class...into a keychain and hung it on my bag. And i thought of an excuse to tell her too...that too many people in my level had the same bag. and she couldnt say much.


she read my diary....contents of which had mention of a boy who kept bugging me during drama. and kept saying that i looked like aishwarya rai and that i was very talented. i was annoying with that chap. had no feelings for him. would have thrown acid in his face in an instant. oh btw, they were filled with newly learnt swear words. she took it and put it on the dining table. and forced me to read it to my dad on a saturday morning while he was eating prata with sambal. i remember it so vividly. I was reprimanded for having feelings for a boy and for learning swear words. oh and comparing my face to aishwarya rai's. was that the thoughts that ran in my head? was that the reason i was trying to impress a boy... i cried badly, i could not breathe. she poked me in the back and told me to cry harder. somemore. louder. cry more. now. i choked and had to hold onto the window grills as i fell to the floor. i actually fainted from all that crying.


i was undeterred. i continued writing. my parter and i shared the same diary. we wrote in it together. she read it again and questioned who that person was. of course she was a girl. but this time, i questioned her. how can you read my diary? the answer was simple.


i am your mother. i have the right to have control of your life and the right to make sure you grow up in the way i want you to. and of course i was slapped and not to protest.



eventually, it only got worse, she checked my emails, chat logs, school books and bags regularly. questioning how come i had these clothes etc. I always assumed that the answer was obvious. i was in drama. i was supposed to have clothes in my bag. i did backstage and costume work. I gave up trying to keep things from her. i just learned to sit on the sofa while she openly went thru my things, emails, forced me to give her my email password if i changed it....


I used the computer past midnight. my father found out once and i was beaten badly. because the computer bills came up to about 80 dollars. i didnt know i'd get caught. all i wanted to do was to just talk to people. my friends from drama. i had so little despite being so popular in school. I collapsed while running once. probably due to the hit on my knee and i bled. but nothing hurt more than the fact that I was being watched.


I feel betrayed. hurt. and unloved. I know that she's the one who eats my marks and spencer biscuits. i know. no one else will eat my food. especially if its on my table. i thought it was just biscuits. now i know how regularly she goes thru my things. i know what are the things she goes thru. she sees my bills, expenditures, how much my clothes cost, how much i spend on food. she sees the newsletters i sign up for, mango catalogues, the books i read, my bookmarks. the body shop things i buy for myself. my perfumes. stationery. weird earring collection.


my endless scribblings to myself. the lists i make. things to do. things i wish for. plans for the future. mission and breakdown on how much to save each month for a mango shopping spree. skin care samples. my secret, non-bank savings stash. reminders to help people with things. whose birthday it is this month. my gifts to them. who is flying and landing when. who i meet and with what regularity...gifts from other people...notes, books and cards from other people...i wont be surprised if she goes thru my wallet and saw the dozens of movie ticket stubs. now they outnumber my classical concert and drama ticket stubs. and now, i know she sees my text messages.



i'm outraged. i feel raped.



she was probably trying to find out if i have a boyfriend. or where i went today because i was dressed in shirt and jeans when i told her i had to meet with my collagues. i remember the time in nus. i got myself two lockers. to keep things away from home....letters i wrote to a certain guy friend i had at that time. his replies to my travel plans, ambitions to take over the skies, cute guys on tv, sleep problems and painkiller addictions. a photo we took together, unintentionally....just to test the camera. it was not completly platonic. i admit. we did have feelings for each other at some point. it faded and it was a very very very professional relationship. We were truly friends. And we were there for each other's successes and failures. performances. birthdays. shoulders to sleep and cry on. Despite what it looked like, It was pure. i swear. but i had to keep it under a padlock. i still remember the padlock number. We no longer talk. that's a whole different story. one that i don't know much of. i know only my side of the tale. that relationship does not matter or have any significance anymore. but i digress.



i want to restrain my words. i have practised self censorship so far. she should thank god i didnt unleash my sarcasm and used euphemisms all this time. but i think this is the last straw. i know i'm not going to change my habits and start speaking up for myself. and i know that she's never going to stop snooping through my things, steal my scissors and use it to cut dried chilli or stop eating food that i buy for myself.


therefore, i shalt will myself to cut off whatever little emotional connections i have with her. i shall remember that it is not worth crying in the shower for. i shall remember that her hypocrisy is something i cannot do unto another. i will hold true to my values. i will put love, trust and openness above all. i will treasure the little things. the people who'd give me a hug. hold my hand and read my thoughts. I will remember that you can have relationships with people who are words on paper. dead authors and the macdonalds lady. I will remember that you can have empty conversations with people and run out of things to say and YET you can still trust them with your wallet when you go to the toilet.



Above all, i will remember today. That relationships are never formed or defined by blood. but by trust. Please god, i'd like to not be near this person anymore. she causes me so much pain that it surpasses the physical sensations i endure daily. it torments me. my lungs hurt. I must have been a meanie in a past birth. I can understand. I may have brought this upon myself and I swear i'll pay it off. I will not curse you or complain that you are lousy. I'll keep my part of the deal. And in return, please god, send me someone who'd cherish and trust the nice person i am today...in this lifetime. I want to be away from this dreaded feeling without having to jump off the frying pan and land into fire.



I'm going to imagine that you hugged me....like how chandler hugs monica and tells her that it'll all be alright. Its 2.42 and i'm less emotional. I shall go to bed.



Oh and btw, happy birthday shadow. its been seven years. it was a rebellion. I was angry to have something so private read publicly, that too, with my own mouth, out of force, and so I decided to put it online. making sure i never accidentally write my name. Ironically, she cannot read it and even if she did, i dont think she can understand my language...For she thinks i'm dumb. i shall add you to the list of people i've known for at least 5 years.



Now, that's a relationship that's not even concrete. I rest my case.