Stories that demand to be told | #10

I am learning that discomfort and sensation are not the same as pain, the body has many languages and I am a translator.

Ochre Sky Stories

Natasha Badhwar

Raju Tai

, and 3 others

Aug 17, 2024

This is the tenth edition of Stories that demand to be told, a curated spread of the most evocative, resonant, real stories. Welcome to Ochre Sky Stories, a home for writers from the Ochre Sky Workshops, facilitated by

Natasha Badhwar

and

Raju Tai

1. Leaving what others call "home" by
Chembu

RELIABLE is something that I have never known in my life. I had myself until my physical body too started crumbling under the weight I had carried. Parents who were supposed to be the protectors were not even spectators in my life. They lived inside of their trauma. We children were left out to fend for ourselves and up to a point we succeeded.

My younger sister who was the troublemaker in childhood was beaten up when she was young. She managed to get married and have kids and is not acting up like me or the youngest sister. My parents had concluded that we should have gotten enough beating in childhood and then we would have behaved well. My therapist was right. They are beyond recovery and all I could do was to care for myself like a parent.

2. Rest in Peace by
Charulatha Banerjee

It was Karma from her past life! Please spare me this shit. She was the victim of a world that did not value her.

I wish for amnesia for her parents – a selective one – one that will allow them wipe clean this image and live with the memories of a little girl, of holidays in Darjeeling monkey cap and all, of celebrations of graduating from medical college. For her mother packing of the tiffin box of Ruti Tarkari, Deem Sheddho and yes, her favourite Sandesh packed into a box for the night duty and then ….. Perhaps they can say to themselves she died in her sleep.

3. When I see a woman read by Sonya Dutta Choudhury

When I see a woman read here, I see companionship. And protection. A lone woman at a table in a café, at a restaurant, brandishes her book as a buffer, her shield against gate-crashers, starers and such like. Such a woman enjoys her book because it’s also her protection.

So, when I see a woman read, I see resourcefulness. I see gumption, driving force and even desperation, reading in bits and bytes between the demands of the day, balancing the burdens of work and life, reading to keep up with a profession, reading to make sense of relationships, reading for parenting and reading for that rarest indulgence – for relaxation.

4. darling, stay with me by
farzana

This choosing to be present takes a deep commitment that I am not well-versed in.

I am beginning to teach myself (once again) how to stay. I am learning that discomfort and sensation are not the same as pain, the body has many languages and I am a translator.

5. Home- Status, Love & Politics by Priya

The days I miss most fondly are the ones we would eat together on the floor, piping hot food. My mother always made fresh food, no matter how tired she was after her long day at the office. Never compromised. “Rasam rice, really?? For dinner?” Inika asked in her classic tone of disbelief two days ago. My heart yearned to go back so I sat on the floor and ate to my soul’s content. While my teak wood dining table looked on…

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

6. A Three-Step Guide To Give Up Alcohol* by
Savvy Soumya

“I don’t think I can ever have wine,” I remember telling Udit. Ditto, Ranjana.

It felt like a loss. Like losing a confidant. I was sure this was permanent damage. This could have been the end of our drinking journey. But we are made of sterner stuff.

Anyhow, you can give it a shot, if you are anywhere near the fence, you might just tip over to the other side. The teetotaller side.

7. Why Do I Write by
Kanchan Balani

I wrote when my father moved to Hong Kong. I wrote after ugly arguments with my mother. I wrote when I got into journalism school. I wrote when my grandmother died and the sadness wouldn't leave me. I wrote when I was solo travelling. I wrote about broken friendships. I wrote after seeing the most beautiful sunrise. I wrote when I found love. I wrote after my extreme burnout episodes. I wrote as my husband and I stood in the waiting area while our younger cat, Idli, underwent surgery.

These words - sometimes a whisper, sometimes a roar - have been my constant companions.

8. The Day the World Stops by
Alaknanda Sengupta

Tomorrow, my mother will call me lazy, and my father might scold me for ignoring some bank work. Tomorrow, we might discuss health issues and dental check-ups. Tomorrow, we might talk about why it is so hard for me to lose weight and why I should walk for at least half an hour every day. Tomorrow, the neighbour will say in the lift that they are glad that I have arrived – my parents have been waiting for my visit.

But not today. Today I will sleep till my body wakes me up. Today I am protected from important conversations, big decisions and wistful reminiscences. Today is the day the world stops!

9. No Paybacks Please! by
Karthik

Now, how do we know the player is giving their best? Here’s a person who has given up all the joys of their childhood and put in hours of practice everyday for years to get till here – to represent the nation at the biggest stage.⁶ Unless the player breaks their racquet on court and throws it all away, I have no reason not to believe that they are not giving their best. Also, just because the opponent outplayed them is also no reason to believe the player is not working hard enough.

We are not doing them a favour by sending our best players to the Olympics and they don’t have to pay us back by winning medals.

10. Parakeets by
Ayush

My brother and I would help him get up from his chair or the commode and hold his hand while he moved. I had never held his hand before. Father-son relationships change over time and the shifts in the power dynamic are usually gradual. In Uncle’s case, it was sudden as he’d held onto his control over us for as long as he could. His illness defanged him and made us his caregivers. It felt like an overnight coup against a dictator who had ruled for decades.

My brother - who’d had a better relationship with him over the years – could be firm when he refused to comply with the doctor’s instructions; it was left to me to be compassionate and reassuring during those months. I found that compassion, if genuine, can be powerful. It cannot undo decades of a difficult relationship but it can untie the knots of bitterness it created.

11. When did you last go home? by
Natasha Badhwar

Homes where everyone seems to be yelling, yet they burst into laughter a lot. Polite homes, where the warmest welcomes come from the domestic staff. Homes where everyone lives in a different home. Sometimes fathers and sons do that. One enters, the other leaves. Monologues, not conversation.

Home is where you return after you are defeated. It takes defeat to find out what home is for. Home is where you recover. Where you have the permission to be ill. Silent. Messy. To own your resources.

12. Family Enough: The Art of Evolution by
Raju Tai

Family hurts. Family happily wires you wrong and then blames you for it. Family is where we first see oppression, manipulation, discrimination. The real family games include Passing-the-Trauma-Parcel, Lack-of-Communication-Dumb-Charades, Blame-wali-Antakshari. But essentially, family is a classic game of Snakes and Ladders. With the trauma come gifts. With the uncomfortable privilege comes an opportunity to be responsible. Because our family doesn’t communicate, we discover art and master articulation.