Category: Articles

Trust

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I never had a problem trusting people. Probably because I always thought that I was a good judge of character. When you get to know a person you understand their positive and negative traits, in relation to your own self. As you grow, too, you understand that people put themselves first. They may not do so deliberately; many times selfish acts are done involuntarily. Even murders have degrees.

But when trusting someone becomes imperative – when you fall in love for example – it takes a certain amount of time and understanding. But when do you stop trusting? When you stop loving, I suppose. Love is blind. Shakespeare understood this, and he wasn’t only talking about subjective beauty. He was talking about how emotions alter our perspective of people.

Maybe that is why I have always been very cautious of falling in love. I have taken time to understand a person before I commit. Over the years though, I have also understood another thing. People don’t show you all the facets of their personality – all at once. They unfold. Like blooming flowers. It takes time to understand another person. In the interim, then love evolves too.

If you just love a person, you may not understand the growth. You understand the different facets, only when you are attuned to the idea of development. You have not seen the person in his or her or their entirety. Circumstances change. The personality reacts to the circumstance it falls into. Therefore, you must understand this. You have not been in all circumstances; therefore you will not see all the facets of their personalities – at least not until the circumstance happens.

Ergo, your love can grow, too. The love I have for a man stays constant in the circumstances I have seen him in. In newer or older circumstances, I may not like certain traits. In a minute example, I could say, I love him for the way he has always held me at night. In time, the holding remains a constant, and so my love stabilizes. In a new circumstance, I may have to get used to the idea that he is prejudiced against people with coloured eyes. It will be an idea that I have to get used to. In another new circumstance, I will love him for standing up to his family when it is required. Love can grow and it can take a pause. But if it starts diminishing, then that is a problem.

It is the same with trust. Love can exist without trust. Yes. But it is difficult to keep loving with pain. When you are in pain all the time, it is difficult for love to keep finding a foot hold. Then like physical pain, one needs a pain killer – and that becomes dangerous for a love relationship.

Family

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

The other day I went to my partner’s mom’s home. She had invited me for Diwali, after 22 years of my being with her son. I sat with her over the season’s greetings and made small talk. After all these years, her acceptance should not have mattered much but it did. And today, after thought, I realized why it mattered.

I am a family guy. Always have been. Apart from not having a father in the real sense of the word, I have had a marvellous family. I grew up knowing freedoms. The right to choose, the right to be, the right to love. I was taught this by fierce women, in both my maternal and paternal families.

My grandmothers were Naseeb and Gai. The former a widow at 26, who raised four children on her own in the ‘50’s. The latter a Gemini who showed me what it was to love another man. My grandfather, Firoz, taught me what it was to be liberal, kind and loving. My aunts, Rajinder and Harwant and Zarine, were independent, free-thinking, caring women. The former two took the place of the father I never had.

My mother, Gaver, who single-handedly raised two children and made a home in the city of Mumbai. Something no one in the family has or since done. She educated us and molded Geeta and me into the people we are today. Free-thinking, free-willed people, who I like to think also have the compassion and the empathy shown to us by the earlier generations.

I will not forget Behram Maama, who taught me what it was to be a good father. Amarjeet, my chachu, who taught me resilience; because of his constant battle with schizophrenia and the final one he lost to throat cancer. He was a brilliant painter, despite being colour-blind.

I think back on my family and I am filled with separation anxiety. I had a full family, but in my generation I have a mere handful of siblings. I have gone through more than my share of loss. Since the age of 19, I have faced death and continue to face him – almost like a friend who comes calling after short intervals. For company, he has taken Mervin, Nana, Chacha, Bonzo, Dadan, Rolfe, Diana, Zoe, Maasi, Munni Pua, Goodie Pua…

My family has literally and metaphorically given me lessons about death and life. It has taught me how to be honest in order to live without added complications. It has taught me how to love – fully and completely – and what sin actually means. In truth, it would mean breaking a heart that loves you.

As I looked at my partner’s mother, someone who accepted our relationship after decades, I realized how lucky I have been to be a part of the family that makes me belong. In my family, acceptance was never a problem. Loving meant accepting. There may not have been complete understanding, in the truest sense of the word, but, despite that, there was never rejection. I was assured there was never any chance of it. My family taught me love. I am me because of them.

To My Haters

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I can just imagine what my haters would say if they knew I was in pain. I can almost hear their smirks. I do not know what strength remains in me to make something more of my heart. I always thought love would be enough to make things alright. As I grew, I realized that that was so far from the truth as Mercury was from Pluto. And that is just a figure of speech for want of a better one. My mind is so full, I cannot even think if the grammar in this blog post would turn out sound.

My last relationship broke my spirit. I have never doubted myself as much even when I had my heart broken by my first love. Perhaps, in my heart of hearts, I tend to hope so deeply that I believe people when they make their promises. And I think I have lost that hope. My last relationship took that from me. It made my heart a barren space which wants to believe but just cannot. It knows that honesty is incomprehensible to most and a promise is of mere importance. Honesty is useless and promises are made to be broken.

That is what I learned. Fear is what I inherited along with a very low self-esteem. Men do not want what I have to offer. They do not want romanticism and passion – there is no space for flowers and no scope for tenderness. Words, they know, ultimately mean nothing and so either they use too few or none at all. But they know how to read me. They know what they see is what they get. Eventually, I am then taken for granted.

As I chose again, I thought that a quieter, calmer soul, principled and sedate in thought, would know how to deal with a broken heart. After all, who better to understand a wound than the one who has had to undergo a similar healing? But in this reflection, I made a mistake. The wound may be similar to the hearts, but the hearts themselves were different.

My heart is affected by my mind. My mind – oof. There lies the rub. It is an unceasing, rotating wheel. If the heart was the sun, Pluto would be the mind. It rotates and revolves regularly – spinning and tossing. Its orbit is fixed. Its five moons run havoc around its own rotation.

The thing is I have been so distracted by my own insecurities that I have allowed people to treat me wrong. Just yesterday, I wondered if I was the reason why some left after appreciating – in the beginning – who I was. It was not that I changed – it was that they expected me to change and I did not. That is saying much. I was never dishonest about who I was and am. I still choose to declare myself openly and with no shame. Their slight was to make me believe I could not be loved as I am. Despite their promises in the beginning that told me they would – for sure.

Because of this, sleep eludes me. I keep wondering whether someone like me shall ever know a peaceful love. Sleep also eludes because I keep waiting for something bad to happen. Waiting for the axe to fall. Waiting for promises to be broken. Waiting for me to be cheated on. Waiting for the lies and the heart break. If only it were easy to trust again. If only I could trust that my trust won’t be betrayed. Again. And worst of all, if I needed to change who I am to make the trusting easier.

It is not healthy thinking. And I am afraid for myself.

And I can know my haters would take such pleasure from this. So this one is for all of you. Cheers.