Thursday, June 26, 2008

The Cost Of Emotional Illitracy

There's an Italian painter, named Carlotti, and he uh, ahem, defined beauty. He said it was the summation of the parts working together in such a way that nothing needed to be added, taken away or altered, and that's you. You're beautiful.
- Cris Johnson, Next

I could delete two more movies and three episodes of 'How I Met Your Mother' today. If I had to rephrase this it would mean that I watched two movies today - 'Transporter 2' and 'Next' and three episodes of the series I mentioned above. The name is too long so, I am not typing it again. It's not one of the cleanest things on TV but when it's on the computer I can safely put on the headphones and watch it even in my parent's presence. Not that they would object if they heard it, I only don't want them to get interested in what I do on the computer. When my father gets interested in something he asks me to put it on a CD. Whenever my mother gets interested in something she sit with me in front of the screen. Both of these are still fine I suppose but I am not in here for a change in the way I live.

The other day she sat beside me when my profile on Facebook was open. In spite of me telling her that she could see it in my absence when my brother is using the computer, she kept coaxing me to let her see my profile. I did let her read a part of it and the moment she started reading the 'favorite quotes' part I scrolled the page down asking her to read the rest with my brother later. But when I scrolled down the page it stopped at the 'Wall' part. There were a couple of messages from a friend who happens to be a girl presently in Saudi Arabia. This was enough for my mother to get excited. She continues to find no difference between what a girlfriend means and what a friend who happens to be a girl means.

She keeps teasing me always. Though obviously, it all depends on her mood. But like most other people, and I strongly believe that others too are like me on this issue, I don't like my conversations with my friends to be read by my parents. But there is something different with me - I have no problem if they read and listen to everything in my absence and never ask me about it and never change their perspectives about it. They are my parents and they do have the rights to know all about me. But because they have grown up, they, I am sure, have forgotten most of what all they had in their minds when they were of my age. I know many times they haven't questioned me when apparently they should have. I could let them see all my accounts and have them seated beside me every time I use my computer provided that they see it the way I feel it. And that, I believe, is not practically possible.

The word that includes these issues is 'generation gap'. It's a phrase to be precise. And it's something I don't always like to hear more on. It's an unfiltered word used by elders to describe what they cannot or perhaps don't want to understand. I really wonder what my parents think of me - what I do know is that they will let me do everything I want to do because they trust the lessons I have taken from them all these years. I remember getting beaten up for many things when I was a kid, being scolded and taught about what all seemed to be trivial to me, and put into detailed discussions - especially by my father - when my perspectives didn't match with his. But unlike many parents I see who don't have their children involved in decisions they make and the problems they face, my parents always kept me informed. Maybe partly because my brother and I were the only ones they had with them almost all the time at home and also because they thought we both must be made responsible sooner.

Or maybe they just didn't think anything about this and simply continued with whatever came to them. Right from the times my parents argued, they had to talk about some relatives, resolve a problem or even fight about something, I was always there. When I was much younger I used to listen. Then I started speaking up. Then I took to the level of becoming opinionated. And now, I am not sure if I am right in doing this, but more or less I feel this is how it has become because almost everything is decided the way I want it to be, I am dictating them what to do. I give the reason, I accept the responsibility and they let me have it my way. I am not forcing them to agree with my maverick opinions; I am only reminding them of what they have taught me.

My relationship with my parents is not like I hear others having with their parents. I am at a lot of distance from my mother. I can never go and hold her hands whenever I want to, I can never go and put my head on her shoulder or kiss her, I can only talk to her. It has always been like this. I used to hug my father a lot until some years back; I used to rest my head on his arms and sleep beside him. I can't do that anymore. Though, of course, with my father it's this way because I have grown older now, with my mother it is always the same. Once in a week she holds my hands when she finds me doing nothing or touches my cheeks - it's only when she feels like. But I feel happy that at least once a week that happens. And there are times I get irritated too when she touches me.

I don't feel any bad about it because it has always been this way. But I like being shown love. I like it when there is a shoulder I can sleep on - I have done that twice - and it was incredible. Once I slept on my cousin brother's shoulder and once on my brother's. I feel great when my father touches me and plays with my ear lobes like he always does with small children. I still don't mind missing them. I would only miss something I have felt enough of it to fall in love with it - in this context. There are imaginations and apart from taking away time they take nothing else - give nothing either. And I still have no idea what's making me write all this. It's just one of those times when I keep typing what sentences some into my mind. I do trust them. They are more real and untouched. And suddenly I see some good number of paragraphs already written!

There is something in me I haven't always liked. It's a part of me; it's a part of my being. Fundamentally I am supposed to control it. It's a kind of emotion that can be enjoyed to the core but must be tamed. I don't want to control it; I want to get rid of it - temporarily. I know that's quite impossible and should it happen it would throw my life out of the track. 'I don't want to control it, I want to get rid of it' is more out of frustration than intention. Or maybe I am just tired because I know it's not going well. But I am happy and thank Allah that some crucial times were held very well decently.

I had two friends at home yesterday in the night and they stayed up till almost 2:30 am. For the last two days I have gone to bed only after Fajar. Yesterday mamma asked me around 4:15 am if I would be awake for more time and I only said “yes”. Today my father told me that it might affect my health. My reply was about the 7 to 8 hours I was sleeping in a day. I am still waiting to hear from the consulate – the three weeks they said have ended. I expect them to contact me in the coming few days. I pray to Allah that I get the visa at the earliest. So many people tell me that they are praying for me. If it is Infosys Allah wants me to join, I pray I remain happy and satisfied with it.

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