BFF

Would you hold my hand..if I saw you in heaven? I’ll find my way through night & day..beyond the door, there’s peace I’m sure: A Love Letter

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Angry, Heartbroken, Lost, Relieved.

True Life: I Don’t Process Grief. I pretend nothing ever happened & run to take care of the person who may have been affected the most, and then one day, I feel personally victimized by the Regina Georges of the Kübler-Ross Model & explode all over my nearests & dearests. Here is a hopeful attempt at not having that happen this time around..mostly thanks to my “baby” brother’s influence. “Just write it out”..the Shiv Vaishnav version of UNK. This isn’t for clicks, likes, or shares. This is for my family..& for all of my hearts that are hurting right now as much as I am.

My Ba’s (grandma) letters were legendary. Coveted hot commodities that the whole family would earnestly hope to receive when there happened to be a big event in their lives. The only reason I have ever thought of rushing to get married was so that I could get one of those handwritten scrolls of love, advice, and strength from my best girl. Now, she’s gone..& it’s time that I wrote a love letter to her instead.

Dear Ba aka My Miss Universe,

I’m mad at you. You weren’t supposed to leave me..ever. The educated part of me seems to have disappeared because all I can think of is that you were supposed to be way past chronological aging and live longer than even me. Back to back strokes at 88 and you were up and writing and walking and feeding your crows. Triple hip fracture surgery at 92 and off you were strolling around Gamdevi like you were still 80. You spoiled us; I selfishly thought you were indestructible & that no one would dare take you away from me. 100 was so close & I had already planned everything we would do together for that big day 6 years from now. And then you left more than 6 years too early. And then you left without me. And I’m mad at you.

Married nearly pre-pubescent in a time where women were uneducated, timid, and there solely for procreation, you did more than give birth to 6 children. You taught those children the importance of character, dignity, self-respect, & especially a sense of humor. You taught them the difference between truth and falsities, you gave them principles, you taught them empathy, you showed them how to live with honor. You educated those children, you disciplined those children, you taught them how to be open-minded and open-armed to one and all, and you gave those children unconditional love that I’m sure I’ve seen in every mother, but just somehow not like your special magical kind. And those children have passed along the priceless lessons to theirs and those kids to theirs and so on. You have a strength and a will power I have never seen in my entire life and I’ve been blessed this whole time to be able to feel it and witness it and have pride in it. And I’m mad at you.

You taught me how to not be afraid of fear. You taught me that a woman could do anything with the iron will that you made so infamous in our world. You showed me that tenacity and a pure heart are all you need to get through this life. You made me see that action is greater than intention. You expressed the unbreakable bond between a mother and her daughter and gave me the gift of having that particular relationship with both you and my own momma. You showed me that freedom of speech is more than okay, that it is necessary in this life. You allowed me to see that respect is earned by the life you live and the unselfish deeds you do. And I’m mad at you.

You sang to me more sweetly and with more talent than Lata Mangeshkar ever could. You held my hand when I slept next to you in a single room with a ceiling fan; you being willing to turn on the AC for me even though you knew you’d need extra chaadars (sheets) for yourself. You stood over a hot stove at odd hours because your grandkids wanted only your thepla, no one else’s. You gave me a miniature Hanuman Chalisa because I told you I was suddenly afraid of flying but I’d do anything to traverse the 10,000 miles to see you & to this day, when I’m on a plane I pretend that Hanumanji is holding the plane up & leading it safely to its destination. You told me that marriage isn’t the be-all and end-all because in the words of Beyoncé, “All the women who independent throw ya hands up at me.” (you said that part a little differently than I wrote it just now).  You also told me that I deserve love because I have the capacity to give love..and that’s all you really need (that, and a non-ass significant other). 😛 You tried to read the English headlines of The Times of India while I tried to read the Gujarati headlines of Garvi Gujarat and we both succeeded because we are both stubborn and persistent and obsessed with learning new things. You made sure you lit the deevo (lamp) every time I left Bombay for protection and for safe travels. You knowingly let me walk into a flying cockroach because you thought it would be the most hilarious thing, and it was..to you. And I can still hear that jingly giggle as you watched 17-year old me flail about in abject terror, you mischievous child in a geriatric body. You let me play in your saris..the one I still sleep with..the one I made sure always stayed with your fragrance still lingering within the threads of the feather-light fabric. The sari that used to comfort me for the past decade & a half..the same one that now half-comforts me and half-tortures me as of this week. And I’m still mad at you.

I feel like Voldemort. Like my soul has been torn into multiple pieces, but without the darkness or the whole immortality situation..& definitely not on purpose. You always had blind faith in your Kanha that he would lead you where you needed to be and where you would be peaceful..& you left me and mom during Ganeshotsav..so I’m kinda mad at Them all right now too, for tainting mom’s favorite time of the year. But I must get by and “move on”..at least that’s what they tell me. I think what I’m going to do instead is just listen to your voice in my head over the past 3 & a half decades..& be confident and safe in the fact that you will lead me to the place of acceptance without the anger or bitterness of losing one of my best friends in this universe. I’m a little less mad at you.

You loved me like I love you..limitless-ly, abundantly, inimitably. You have finally been granted your last wish over the past few years..to be yourself again; free, independent, strong, and angelic. Your legacy is something that will last long after my own last breath because all of your 6 children, 14 grandchildren, and 18 great-grandchildren and so on will make sure that no one in any lifetime forgets Ramaben Chimanlal Gandhi, and more than that, no one will ever tarnish this future lifeline that you have built. I miss you more than I can express in any possible medium, and your Krishna only knows when I will be able to return to Bombay again, let alone to your home and your room. But all I can give you now is this..

I love you immensely, Miss Universe. In this and every other life..past, present, & future. And..

I could never be mad at you.

Love,

Siddhi

Today’s Wisdom: “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world & me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another & not to me.” -C.S. Lewis

Today’s Interlude:

 

 

 

Mindy, Mindy, Mindy, Can’t You See? Sometimes Your Words Just Hypnotize Me: The Difference Between An Admirer & A Creeper

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Excited, Admiring, Awed, BFF-y.

If you know me, you know I love her. Like, LOVEEE her. I’m not a person who gets starstruck or flustered when meeting celebrities, ever, but when I recently had the chance to meet writer/director/actor/producer/fashionista/hottie Mindy Kaling, albeit for a brief 12 second span where I gave her Easter candy in a hot pink bag, my body apparently knew something my brain wasn’t caught up on because I was shaking like a Californian in an Alaskan winter & it wasn’t because of the 50 mph gusts of wind outside.

People who follow me on social media are well aware of my adoration for her & they’ve asked me time & time again why she’s so awesome to me. There is a plenitude of reasons that we love or admire celebrities. Most of the time it’s their body of work & talent or because of whatever persona they (or their PR team) decide to show us, & since we’ll most likely never meet them, that’s how it stays. With Mindy (& I have a huge list of people who share my sentiment), it’s much more. It’s easy to pick her as the South Asian role model for women & entertainers and very easy to pick her as the spokesperson for every “Brown” person out there, but that’s actually last on my list of why I am awed by her in a non-creeper way. If you’ve read her book, “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? And Other Concerns,” you’ll know what I mean (& if you haven’t read it, get on it ASAP. It’s a New York Times Bestseller & unless you’re a Jetsons-esque robot [but even Rosie had emotions], you’ll laugh until you ugly cry. I’ve read it 3 times, taking something new away from it every time, & highlighted about 80% of it). Mindy weaves humor & emotion seamlessly while telling her stories of being bullied about her weight, her childhood fears, unapologetically loving comedy early on in life, her botched Broadway audition, living in a shoebox apartment with her 2 best friends, her dating game, and so on. As she tells her stories, I don’t know if she realizes it or not, she connects with so many of us on a personal level. It’s easy to want to put those days behind you (& easily be able to) when you’re at nearly 3 million Twitter followers, over half a million Instagram followers, & being the star & show runner of your own network TV show, but the greatest thing about her is that she owns it & embraces it all. She’s never hidden from her roots or her history and that’s what makes her accessible to & adored by so many of us (her talent and hilarity help too, obv).

I have many celebrities I love, but I’ve never felt connected to them on a personal level like I do with Mindy Kaling. Perhaps it’s that we’re close in age, perhaps it’s that she is fiercely loyal in her close relationships & friendships, perhaps it’s that her greatest strength & love is the relationship she has (yes, present tense) with her mother, perhaps it’s that we’re both fashion freaks (her Instagram feed is to die for!), perhaps it’s that we had a similar childhood, & perhaps it’s just that she’s someone I aspire to be like; inspired, driven, sarcastic with a childlike exuberance but an iron work ethic. She’s a brilliant writer, an Ivy-League graduate, & has humorous self-deprecation down to a science. Someone somewhere (or at least definitely on Twitter) says that they wish they were Mindy Kaling’s BFF every day. And though I admit to having said that, I’m happy I’m not. Wait, what? Yes, I’m happy I’m not her BFF because I have my own group of BFFs (“it’s not a person, it’s a tier, Danny!”) who have been there for me through all of the winding roads of life & I love that she still has her core group of homies from college (& of course, BJ Novak from The Office) who have been there for her for the same. Don’t get me wrong though, had it been 2002 & I met Mindy & her friends (which was SO FEASIBLE since I was watching all of the Bombay Dreams auditions in real life & wish I’d gotten to know her when she auditioned!), I’d totally try & hang out with them.

For someone who has high aspirations for making it as not only a woman, but a person in this world, I can think of no one better to look to as a guide. She didn’t glide up on a who-knows-who method & she doesn’t rest on her laurels. She worked her ass off & had conviction in her work, her intellect, her talent, & herself and that’s something I sometimes forget to do for myself. She’s constantly striving (look at me, weirdly talking about her as though I know her personally..here is that line between admirer & creeper, you guys..I’m toeing it :P) to better herself & hone her skills, but doesn’t seem to beat the shit out of herself if something falls short. And for all of the times that people come down on her for not being the token South Asian who apparently should be shouldering all of our historical burdens, a quote from Elle Magazine says it best, “She doesn’t rely on being Indian, but doesn’t deny it either.” That’s an amazing thing, especially in Hollywood! This is 2014. Be proud that a “f***ing Indian woman [has] her own f***ing show!” A network television show. That, for once, doesn’t stereotype an Indian woman (or man, for that matter) as an accent-harboring, oily haired nerd searching long & hard for an arranged marriage that will make the family happy all the while toiling away at a profession they hate. And for those who say, “Yeah, but she still plays a doctor! How Brown.” Yes, she plays an OB-GYN as an homage to her late mother’s profession, not because of the Indian generalization associated with it. Mindy’s created a show for us single 30-something women that shows the real, if sometimes exaggerated, colors of dating & working (especially for us New Yorkers). I have known people my whole life who, despite being Indian, have only dated non-Indian people. It’s not Mindy’s job to make sure that every South Asian actor has a job, or to make sure that Dr. Mindy Lahiri dates South Asian men just because she is South Asian. That’s a reality that people really need to get on board with. Her job was to create a show that is funny, that people will enjoy, & that she’s proud of, and in that, she has succeeded tenfold.

I think I may have been happier than Mindy Kaling & the cast and crew themselves when The Mindy Project was renewed (early) for a season 3. The show is my happy place. It’s found its groove (even though I personally have loved every episode since the pilot) & there are times you have to watch it twice to catch one-liners you may have missed because you were too busy laughing at something else that just happened. It makes me literally LOL (which only Friends & Gilmore Girls have done) with its quick witted dialogue, pop culture references, equally intelligent and silly humor, & incredibly individual characters; and to know that Mindy’s in charge of it all (with a great team, of course) just makes me wax poetic about her even more. I have been having quite a few shitty days lately & I’ll be damned if Morgan Tookers’ innocent creepiness or Danny Castellano’s curmudgeon-y behavior (red grandma glasses intact) or Mindy Lahiri’s insecure self-confidence don’t give me at least that full 21 minutes of reprieve from real life. If you haven’t given it a chance yet, I suggest you spend the next 9.5 hours watching season 1 & season 2 on YouTube in order to prep for the one hour return tonight at 9PM on FOX. I know I’m going to be sipping on strawberry ale in my TMP cup saying “HOW DARE YOU!?” to anyone that attempts to disturb my cloud 9 of comedy.

P.S. Mindy, if you ever end up reading this, I’m just kidding about the BFF thing. I love my tier, but I’m totally available, so call me! “Winky face.” 😉

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Today’s Interlude: The Mindy Project Theme Song