Belonging

Hey you,

Have you ever felt out of place? Surrounded by so many familiar faces, and yet feeling like an alien? Lost? Alone? Well...I most certainly have. Certainly do...still. And as the days roll by, previously familiar faces and places, suddenly turn cold too.

                                                   

Where the hell do I belong?

From a very long time, I have always had doubts about belonging somewhere, and to someone. I never understood the concept. I always felt out of place. Guess it had a lot to do with my upbringing... 

As a little girl; my fellow classmates (all girls--since I went to an all-girls school) seemed to love long hair and frilly skirts or frocks. I had till then only dressed up like little boys do. My mom believed that it didn't make any difference, and was way comfier. This obviously made me stand out amongst my peers. The fact that I had short hair and unpierced ears added to the trolling at school. I was called a boy and was inevitably made fun of. This took a toll on my security and I started throwing tantrums at home; begging them to change my look to a more feminine one...so that I could make friends. And when I did; I missed the jeans and shirts. I still had short hair, but my clothes were different; as was the piece of jewellery now hanging from my ears. 

                                                 

I had been pretty friendless at school as a young girl. Mostly because I'd rather be left alone than mix with people I don't relate to.

Guess it all started from that moment. That very feeling...the one of being different; was resonated in various experiences henceforth...

I had never felt comfortable around the customs and superstitions at home. I started rebelling against them. Obviously, no one paid any heed to me; but I knew better. I had already made a promise to not settle for anything that I did not absolutely like or believe in. As I grew up; I was exposed to more and more such episodes of drama that I thoroughly failed to understand. I had grown up in an atmosphere that I completely detested and have always wanted to run away from. Hence the question-- that keeps haunting me; do I belong at "home"...?

People say home is what defines and shapes you...but what if you grow up somewhere where you find nothing in common with the people around you? What if people keep praising you for your academic or whatever such creative abilities you possess; without ever knowing how hard it has been for you to get up and remember to breathe every day? What if they make assumptions about the excellent atmosphere you've had at home; when the very reason you excelled...was by finally blocking it out?

                              

What does it really take to "succeed"...?

The only way all this confusion and not-so-ideal turn of events have affected me; is that it has made me more clear on what I like and what I don't. On what I stand for and believe in. And that...you can never fathom what a person has gone through just by taking a look at the final result. Never make assumptions. Ever again.

So why exactly is it that I always...somehow feel lost? Why exactly??

Well, most people seem to like parties. Yes, I enjoy all the free food and drinks too. But then, we also have...so many strange people coming up to you...fake smiles stuck ever so luringly on their made-up faces. Pretending to be nice. My mom angrily whispers to me: "Hey; be nice! Say something!!!" I go blank...why the hell do I hate gatherings so much? Sitting uncomfortably and pretending to be having an excellent time...all the time wanting to be left alone. Dreaming of the book I could've been reading or the really awesome movie I was in the middle of when...

                                                

Do you feel uncomfortable at parties? Do you feel like going home and crawling up in your bed with a book, or your laptop even??

I cherish freedom a lot. Really very much. I dream of having my own room. A cosy little bed. My own desk to work on. My little world in short; where I can do anything I want, be anyone I want,...listen to loud music; dance without feeling shy; laugh heartily while chatting with friends (without being rudely screamed at...to talk softly); study...without sticking my fingers into my ears; work, without having people tap on my shoulders and ask: "Are you working at all; or are you just whiling away your time...?" A room defining my own world, my personality...that can be decorated and organised by me...just me. So...do I belong in my own home? Do I? Isn't the realisation shocking? Utterly unacceptable even; to some...?

                                 

Someday perhaps I'll have my own room...? But (that) someday will I get my childhood back, and all the wishes that were lost with it's fading away...?

So where exactly do I belong? What makes me feel--at home? Well, I believe that... Home is people, the ones with whom I share similar views on crucial matters. Home feels like winter...when we wear lovely, soft and warm cardigans. When we wake up to chilly mornings. When we crave hot cups of warm beverages. When I rub my nose on freshly laundered, sweet-smelling clothes. Home is a hearty conversation with a close friend. Home is like a simple meal that I cooked...all by myself. Home is a Ruskin Bond story which somehow...always leaves a smile on my face. Home is a song that sings to my soul. Home is a feeling. And I belong to this feeling.

 

                                  

I believe home is a feeling. And when I'll have these feelings a bit more often than I do now...I guess I'll be home...and only then will I finally belong...

Something that happened at school comes to mind...

17 years old and sitting with a group of classmates. Suddenly the conversation turns to weddings. People start discussing the highly ornate saris or lehengas they'd like to wear. Calm down. It's ok. People may like highly ornate things. Everyone is different. I keep giggling while listening to their lavish plans. Then the conversation turns towards jewellery. Inevitably gold. Damnit. I hate gold so much. Gold jewellery in particular. The huge and heavy ones. The ones that make me wanna look away. And that's exactly the type of jewellery my companions seem to like. Why are images of hungry kids suddenly flashing before my eyes? Why the hell do I hate stuff that others seem to like?  I excuse myself and move away. Walk towards the playground...some of my friends are running about. I join them. Somehow running about...calms me down. A friend walks up to me.

Friend: "Hey dude...I thought you were catching up with the others after the holidays?"

Me: "Well I was...before..."

Friend: "...you felt so out of place that you had to run away?? I know I did!!! 😉"

                             

So; what about you?