locked in, breaking out

some things get you from the first day. you step off the plane and are assailed by the heat, the humidity. you step out of the airport and are surrounded by this one and that one offering to help you with you don’t know what, you ride away in yr taxi over broken roads into congested kolkata coughing at the inhalation of all this poisoned air and entirely disoriented. these are the kinds of things that get you first.

then there are the things that build. stares u can shrug off at first, but then later drive you to inappropriate explosions of anger against the nearest but not so necessarily most grievous offender. or the delays that first u absorb patiently. thinking, this is a way of life, different, a lesson. which it is oh totally without a doubt in the world. i have definitely learned important things from such trials.

but there is the question of how long a person should go on learning something. some things take a day to learn, some take a life. and after nine months of such things i begin to think that as good as it is for me to chill out and learn take the punches as they come, to roll with it, i cannot help but feel like something is being drained away from me. time. slipping off, stolen away, disappeared; my life (at least this year of it) swallowed up in some hazy confusion of time and place, some eternal waiting and wondering what is to happen.

and so you get to feeling trapped. in these commitments, in this program of study, in all the appointments that take their time to materialize, if they are to materialize at all. in all this traveling and dead time, all this staring into space, all this anticipation with no action. but what to do? this is what it is, this is my deal, this is what i have gotten myself into, this is my project.

then one day s-di the dance teacher never shows up. you wait and you wait and you wait in the dance school, drift under the furious fans, make an attempt or two at reviewing the material you are learning. but as you pass the one hour mark something angry inside starts to build, where is she? why is this always the way this ends up? why am i here? what am i doing? am i crazy stupid something to be doing this? what was i thinking, coming at all? i should leave, i shouldn’t wait and let even more time be pulled away from me. get out of this dance school, even get out of kolkata. i dont need this, i dont need this, i dont need this. i never needed this. why do i even bother? why am i kept here? why do i feel so obligated? why do i feel so trapped? i am the master of my own destiny. i can desert this place any time i want to. i will. this is it, i have taken enough. i am out. i am through. kolkata, i have had enough of you.

at which point, after roughly removing my poor bells from my ankles, tossing them into the cupboard, i make to sweep out the front door only to discover the gate padlocked from the outside. this very literal manifestation of my emotions, this symbol made concrete, is just a little too much. i break. i burst into tears. i wail, i hit my fists against my thighs, i feel set to burst. i pound on the gate, to no answer. i pound harder and harder and finally with a big kick that sets the gate resounding i get someone’s attention, outside. i don’t even ask who did it. i just get out of there, out out out. my mind in a chaos of thinking.

a nice boy at breakfast, a native kolkatan studying at shantiniketan, hears from me that i am thinking of leaving the city, that as much as i like kolkata even love, i just feel it is enough, it is time to leave. he says, ah, this is your first time in india. i say no, no it is not. he says, oh, your second then? i am annoyed. at the time i cannot think of why, tho his implication that i am some silly newbie who just needs to get over it is enough to insult my pride.

but really, this is one of those moments when you recognize your limits. cuz really, i am never going to be ok with the harassment that i face all the time on the streets of kolkata, these assaults on my respectability, on my feelings, on my body and on my sense of self. i will never be ok with always being seen as a foreigner first and foremost by the great majority of people. i will never be comfortable with having to hide all these parts of myself, my opinions my politics my personal life, for fear of offense. i will never feel happy having to wear these strange clothings to protect myself (as much as is possible) from being judged and poorly treated. never before did i realize how much it really does matter to me, how much it really does make a difference, to have power over my own appearance, to be able to wear blue jeans and t shirts and whatever else, how i literally come at certain moments to feel caged or even lost within the indian-style garments that i have taken to hiding myself away in. and as time goes on, i can’t help but feel more and more frustrated by my inability to dress as i like. it is another example of me frustrated, hidden away, suppressed, and afraid. the environment and the fear of judgment or adverse reaction leading me to the salwar kameez, and then this partial refuge, protection, in itself leaving me feeling silenced and trapped.

all these tensions, provoking shame and discomfort and anger, twisting away at my mind, and no way to deal with them, no way to come clean to the people around me. walking away from dance class, i hit upon it, that for my own peace of mind, even sanity, i cannot stay. my brain needs a break. so, i will make my escape.