Stories that demand to be told | #13

Then, the most spectacular experience happened – I joined the Ochre Sky Writing Workshop. We gave words to the unspoken, unheard feelings. I went deep into my childhood. I discovered it was necessary.

This is the 13th 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

.

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1. The thieves of Calcutta and other stories by

Gargi Sen

Tall, dark and athletic, his running reminded me of a childhood film, Chariots of Fire. He ran like those men in that famous movie. Head back, body coordinated. What amazing grace!

Unfortunately, in Calcutta, with no industry or job opportunities for many, the only option left open to him is theft. And at stupendous risk too. Surely, he steals knowing very well that Calcutta hates petty thieves and pickpockets, and if he were to be caught, he would be lynched to death. If only he could get the opportunities that all human beings are entitled to, he might have been somewhere else altogether.

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2. The Quiet Undoing of Varanasi's Pluralism, One Person at a Time by

Priyanka Bhadani

I smile back, trying to match his expression without giving away too much. But after his prompt response, his face changes again—there is a defensive edge that wasn't there before. He turns towards the dashboard compartment in his rickshaw, rummages through it, and pulls out a small pouch. As he unzips it and digs through its contents, my heart starts to race. I have no idea what to expect.

"See this," he says, holding an identity card up to my face. It shows his photo and name with a surname that screams upper-caste Hindu. "This is my I-card. I am not a Muslim," he insists.

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3. Writers and Writing in Muzaffarnagar by

Tanuj Solanki

In the early days of my mother’s literary adventure, I had taken it upon myself to be her harsh editor, to make sure that she wrote better and better. It turned out to be a frustrating endeavour. We bickered a lot over video calls, me pointing out the flaws in her writing, she taking all that I said personally and coming close to tears. It took me some time to realise that I wasn’t going to be very successful, that she would make her own path, at her own pace, and that if her ambition regarding her work was strictly local, it wasn’t my remit to stretch it over wider landscapes. What she was doing—engaging with literature, expanding her vocabulary, learning about poetic forms and playing with them—at her age, after a lifetime of being a home maker, was enough in itself (her job was given to her on compassionate grounds after my father’s death; she was 53 then, and retired five years later at 58, which is when her life in poetry started). My mother’s literary adventure needed only to be savoured, to be seen as a beautiful effort of the will, and also, in some way, a hat tip to a different life that could have been hers.

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4. 5 Things I Did - During My Sabbatical by Sumitra Mishra

Discovering new things took some effort. I walked into my sabbatical carrying the burden of having to do something extraordinary. I am not a high on hobbies person. Not awfully creative to pursue latent singing and dancing talents, neither the sports nerd to pick a racket. I was at a loss for picking up a hobby.

Then, the most spectacular experience happened – I joined the Ochre Sky Stories Writing Workshops. I was suddenly enveloped by kindred souls who were delving deep into their personal memories, speed writing things that one was hesitant to even voice to ourselves. We wrote, read, sang, doodled, pretended to dance. We laughed, cried, held hands through our zoom room. We dared to give words to the unspoken, unheard feelings. I went deep into my childhood. I discovered it was necessary.

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5. What Is Saving You? by

parvathy

Filling out the google form for Ochre Sky Memoir Workshops saved me from a lifelong habit of abandoning myself.

I am easily distracted. I offer this information countless times — as a diagnostic criterion, a medical fact, an explanation, or an apology. Not untrue. Not fully true.

I find so much in the world to pay attention to, stare at, understand, relish. How do you not honour the craving to connect with the world? I pay too much attention to too many things at once, delight in the absurdity and beauty of all of it.

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6. Tall Sons & Truth telling by

Charulatha Banerjee

He qualified to be admitted in a Law School of his choice. He did it despite his mother being away I thought. I also thought his mother went away because he gave her the courage to go.

When I told him I wanted to join a memoir writing workshop, he asked “Will you have fun?” I said I am not sure. “You might be the only reader of all that is written there and you might say that is a pai…. n” imitating his drawl. I waited for an answer, like always, knowing he would help me make the decision. “As long as it is not too painful for you”. He did not fail me.

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7. The Sacred Power of Writing by

Sanskriti Bhatia

On a Tuesday afternoon determined and optimistic Sanskriti opened the final result list, certain of finding her name in it and hopeful of seeing it at the top. She opened the PDF and read through the first 200 names manually. Sifting through every name, she stared at that list until the emptiness of crushing despondency stared back at her. Finally, it was time to follow the automated route of typing control plus F and search for her name with an all powerful enter. “Not found” declared the screen with ruthlessness…

…Then, she closed her laptop. She opened the notes app of her phone and started writing. She wrote and wrote and wrote.

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8. On Being Good Enough and The Barbie Movie (TM) by

Sucheta

While pregnant, my therapist caught me using the word “ideally” a lot one session when I was talking about the kind of mother I wanted to be. “But surely we talk about a Good Enough mother for secure attachment, not an ideal mother”. This stopped me in the tracks…
…This is the power of truth unfiltered. Of recognising the Personhood of idealised role players. It heals. It gives hope for reparation. Maybe we can change the script, eh. Maybe we can try to be a bit more truthful, a bit less perfect- maybe we can even be Good Enough.

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9. Conflict with Care- a Feminist Agenda by

Fiona Vaz

If we prefer peace, and there is conflict, the agenda item here, is to make conflict as peaceful as possible. This is not an oxymoron as you have been led to believe by men mostly that we need to have war to keep peace. The internet is full of such discourse.

When peace becomes a masculinist project, war is essential. Because war as a means of achieving peace is a capitalistic project that does not include redemption or empowerment. Conflict with care is therefore a feminist agenda and I am going to share why.

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10. Lunchbox - written by

Vimal Chitra

and translated by

Farjad Nabi

I would dig insects from the sand and lift them on to my palm, giggling as they tickled me. When my laughter echoed, I dropped the insects and shouted across the river, waiting for my voice to return. I made toys out of water plants and played with them; the sound of toys reflecting off the water made a wondrous vibration. For hours, I paddled from deep to shallow waters and back again. Then, like a rock, I lay still with the rocks, losing myself.

When we were done swimming, we would open our bundle, and mixed rice with dal and baingan ki subzi for our meal. We ate in deep silence, enveloped by the breeze. Nothing can compare to the experience of a meal eaten by a river, surrounded by the coolness in the air. My father would fling leftover baingan peels into the river and swarms of tiny fish would rise to the surface.

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11. Turning 20 together by

Natasha Badhwar

The thing with the growing-up years of one’s firstborn is that you never quite have an accurate perspective on how young they are, especially when there are younger siblings serving as a foil. The firstborn always seems big, or old enough.

OMG, I think now, she was not even two years old when she walked with such poise to the playschool in the neighbourhood, where I left her among bawling, distraught children. How calm she seemed, reassuring me that she would be fine. She was three when she returned home one day, picked up a book by bell hooks and began to pretend-read an adventure-filled story featuring rabbits and crocodiles that she was creating as she narrated it. My friend Aparna edited the video I shot and made a little film out of it.

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12. Ghazal for Inner Child by

Raju Tai

See, see where we have come, so far into the land of spinach and papaya
Parties of affection around pools of ink. Don’t you feel the power, child?

I know though, what is missing. I can't run away with begging bowls
when you need my faith hugs, my kind words the most at this hour, child.

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URDU se DOSTI, a beginner's workshop facilitated by Vimal Chitra

Urdu is a language of love, history, and poetry. Discover the jaadu of Urdu with poet, screenwriter and spoken word artist, Vimal Chitra in our 2 day workshop, Urdu Se Dosti

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Discover the transformative power of personal writing with Natasha Badhwar

and Raju Tai at Ochre Sky Stories Memoir Workshop.

https://tinyurl.com/OchreSkyWritingCircle