My People at Kamshet

Jungle mein Mangal

Jan 11, 2025

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“We are all engaged in the task of peeling off the false selves, the programmed selves, the selves created by our families, our culture, our religions”

— Anais Nin, from In favour of the Sensitive Man and Other Essays

Woh 3 din thay ya 30 ya 3000

Lag raha hai 3 minute thay

Maine toh ek zindagi jee li

September 2023

The first Ochre Sky Writing Circle

Natasha Badhwar

aur

Raju Tai

ke saujanya se

I meet a bunch of eyes on Zoom. I soon discover they have fingers that have a hotline to my heart. In a world of Ozempic driven bodies and botox hit faces, I found soul food. I didn’t know it then, but over the year we wrote together, in silence most times, over distances that were bridged by technology, my heart was nourished, my soul was fed…by stories of life.

9 months of gestation and we think it is time. Time to take the relationship to another level. We start planning and the universe conspires. Bit by bit, the pieces fall in place, writers grow wings and we land beside a lake, between trees to find our way to each other.

Get a room, you say ?

Oh we did !

The room where we read, write, listen and be heard and feel our collective hearts.

On the first afternoon we looked into each others eyes. Our fingers moved to create images of who we saw and how we saw.

We saw ourselves in the mirror and became mirrors for each other. The most forgiving mirrors. It surprised us to discover what was revealed.

I think of ‘Kintsugi’. The Japanese art form of repairing broken objects with gold, creating something more beautiful.

I find my gold.

Manisha Gupta

and Anam led this dance.

If there is a writer, there is an actor hidden in them.

And what happens when the actor is unleashed ?

Drama, laughter, madness and the most unexpected ensued for the next 3 days.

The grand finale was an explosion of wicked humour, improvisation and entertainment, entertainment, entertainment.

Nidhi Arora

and

Anusha Khan

played along.

We read each other and wrote for each other. We cut, we struck, we edited with the softest touch. We took each other other’s narratives forward and stunned the protagonist of the story. We learnt to let go.

Savvy showed me acceptance. She created a twist while keeping my story alive. I trembled while adding to Anam’s story. I breathed when she approved.

Nidhi Arora

taught us how to use the knife without hurting ourselves.

We found our emotions in the ordinary things of life. And suddenly nothing was ordinary. A little stone, a dry leaf, a cup of coffee brought surprise and delight. Everyday objects metamorphosed into larger than life beings . We saw movement in the inanimate and stillness in the wind.

We experienced curiosity, silliness, joy and a deep, deep way of seeing.

Raju Tai

and

Roshni

showed the path.

I found that love talks to me. Love answers my questions. Love exists within me and outside of me. Love writes letters.

Now I know the meaning of love letters.

Nidhi Arora

and

Raju Tai

redefined the expression “basking in love”.

We talked movies

Life imitates Art or vice versa

We discussed opinion v/s judgment

Criticism v/s critique

We are passionate, we love films and we find ways to read them through

Karthik

’s eyes.

Sanobar Sabah

and

Sumira Khan

showed us how road maps are created and navigated.

How to find my WHY

What I would love to get and receive

Find my peace in my piece

Write everyday. About anything and everything.

I think, I am afraid of being a bad writer.

I hear Susan Sontag say

“Then I must be a bad writer. At least i’ll be writing. Then something else will happen. It always does”.

We sat around the table one last time just before we go away to “our homes and family”. As we all share a thought, I say tearfully “I have found what I was looking for”. I think about it on the drive back. Did I know that I was looking for something ? If I did, did I know what it was that I was looking for ? It dawns on me, I have learnt to recognise a good thing. You think , Haan, so ?

I have spent my life not knowing what is good for me. Oh, I know right from wrong. In a philosophical way. Application to my own life, is another matter. I have thought too much. I have tried too hard. I have pushed myself away and shown the world someone I don’t really know. It was a good facade. It worked for the world. But what about my voice, who I am, what I see and hear. It turned raspy with rejection. It has blank notes of an empty heart. If I speak at normal volume, I am told I cannot be heard, if I speak out loud, I am asked why I am shouting. People on the phone ask what happened to your voice. At any time of the day, they ask, did you just wake up ?

Well, actually, What do you know !

I HAVE JUST WOKEN UP. And I have never felt so alive.

I found MY PEOPLE

Over the best Christmas cake in the world and coffee from the best farm, we had conversations that could go anywhere. Deep and thoughtful to hilarity and guffaws.

Over quizzes and games, the competition and the camaraderie, the fake rivalry and the solidarity.

Over midnight snacks that get pulled out of a suitcase, the giggles and the whispers are heard across the ghats.

The random dancing, just because there is music.

The hugs and kisses just because we cross each other on the way to lunch.

Chocolates carried lovingly especially for us from videsh.

Over bought and over supplied snacks. “Kuch kam na padh jaaye”.

The sheer joy of laugher that came from nowhere and just continued. Loud, open, from the belly to the heart.

Back spasms, fractures and allergies were visitors who were told to wait.

Falling asleep when we cant keep our eyes open anymore, waking up and running out of the room to the voices we love. All I was thinking is, how can I get more ? How do I make it last ?

The roommate and the comfort of being with family. Did I snore? Did she snore ? Who knows ? We slept like babies who are loved.

The gifting and the receiving. The books, the book marks, oh the bookmarks that show me the way I am seen and the way I am heard. The stickers that I want to stick on my heart. The little boxes of sweetness, which I share with the family back home. I will tell them about these 3 days for the rest of my life and theirs. They know it and it makes them smile.