Saturday, March 28, 2009

we were made to love

"Kay-seeee! Kay-sEEE!" I walked out to the balcony and looked down at the street below where there were seven adorable kids calling my name. "Kay-see! It's going to RAIN! oh, please come dance with us, please Kay-see, please!"

My heart was swelling, swelling, pop.

Of course I went down to have a rain dance with these high-spirited, bright-smiling, care-free child friends of mine. I grabbed my light green scarf and was down the steps and out the door in no time. We went to the corner and took each others hands, and with our giggles and in our sacred joy, we welcomed the few drops that fell on our path. After a couple minutes of our spinning and hand-in-hand swaying, we sat on the curb, painted in black and white stripes, and enjoyed salted mango sprinkled in chili powder, when this story took a spirit crushing turn.

Recently Sweety made me read terrifying stories about violent attacks against women, and it had been many miserable days since I'd let go of my fear of dangerous men and acid pourings and just lived. Two boys my age approached me, the kids, and green eyes enjoying our snack on the curb. They told me, "you are on a street. this is not your house, and you shouldn't dance in public because people will think that you are a joker", which is the Indian equivalent of a slut. I was completely taken aback. I realize that these boys probably had my best interest at heart, but they were harsh words to hear and felt completely condescending. I felt frustrated and was on the verge of tears when Raja, my thirteen year old homeboy, argued with the intruders of our happiness. Then he did his friend duty and told me that I could never look like a joker.

Despite Raja's sweet consolation, I was back on guard. When I walked home and out-and-about the following days, it was not with a spring in my step, but with the heavy burden of being a woman in this man's world. With a hardened, hollow expression on my face, I walked, pleading with the law's of our universe to make me invisible, seeking no admiration or adversary, but just truly to be left alone. Defeated, I walked with my head down, looking at my feet pretending not to notice the high school boys doing tricks on their two wheelers. With my peripheral vision, I spotted cars sitting idly or men standing around, and I migrated to the opposite side of the road. If men called out to me I acknowledged them so to not damage their pride, but I did not fully smile or make any eye contact. Burdened by my fear, I trudged, and plodded, and dragged my body down the streets leading further into the depths of fear's internal darkness.

I was almost home, thank god, when I heard "Mam, excuse me, Mam". A teenage boy had stopped on his scooter and was calling me. I turned his direction with an unwelcoming expression, looking like I'd never had a happy feeling in my life.

"Where are you from, Mam?"

"Canada", I lied, scared since the U.S. bombed Pakistan just a few days before and not knowing whether this boy was Muslim or Hindu. I hated that it mattered. I hated to lie.

"I saw you the other day" he said. I was bracing myself for what insensitive words were sure to follow, certain that I was about to be scolded for having a spirit and loving dancing children and earth's sweet rain. "You were feeding a hungry cow", he began. "I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for loving India, at the bottom of my heart, thank you".

I looked at his face for the first time, my eyes welling up, "thank you", I replied, completely stunned. He gestured his respectful namaste and road away.

I wish I could have conveyed to him how much his blessing meant to me and the alleviation of my useless, heavy fear that followed. I walked home feeling so much love for the universe that I held my hands to my heart and cried, convinced that we were made to love.

4 comments:

monét said...

oh casey! good things always come to good people. i am so proud of what you are doing.

Bradley Kerl said...

you are doing great things, casey.

it was nice to hear your voice last night.

peace!

Unknown said...

I'm so glad you're being appreciated.
Also, I feel terrible for not knowing that my country is bombing another country.

Marcia Michele said...

This is by far my favorite of your blogs. India doesnt realize what it has :)