un/predictable environments
A space for conversation, analysis, and inquiry following the Un/Predictable Environments Conference, May 20-21, 2021
T.W. - Suicide, rape, violence Before the pandemic, one of my participants said some really beautiful words to me. They said, “When we lose the ability to wonder, we die.” When I was a kid my grandmother used to tell me, “Don’t waste water because water has memory and whoever forgets that wastes memory too.” As a kid I believed her, just like I believed in many supernatural phenomena; I belong to a generation that was taught lighting in the sky is magic, and because of that I used to feel better whenever lightning events took place. As I grew up I became more scientifically rational, and as a teenager, I would come to laugh at my grandmother’s belief system. Later, as a student of anthropology, I started understanding how these idioms and spells stemming from nature help humans survive un/predictable events like those talked about in this conference. Today, water plays a very important role in my life. I belong to a city that has a deep history with water. The festival Kumbh Mela is known for its huge gathering near the Yamuna and Ganges Rivers, a place known as Sangam. It is believed that if you take a holy dip in Sangam, all your sins vanish. People give offerings to these rivers, pray and make wishes. When their wishes come true they again give offerings and pay respect. I find it really beautiful, even though I don’t believe in it anymore. At least not like when I was a kid. Everyone has a story and I have mine to tell. I don't know how much of this is important but telling my stories makes me feel I’m moving like water. For millennia subaltern groups have believed that water has healing properties, and I am a firm believer of alternative medical systems and astrology. So here is my story with water in hopes it will heal those who, like me, have a haunted past. (click read more to continue) 2015. I was 23 years old back then. I stood by the old Naini bridge and was about to kill myself, leaving a handwritten note for my mother. I felt guilty of a crime I never committed. I was raped by my partner and his friend. I had no one to share this with. I just decided to end everything. But when I was about to jump, out of nowhere three boys came and they asked me what I was doing. I didn’t reply but I stopped crying, started my scooty, and came home. I went on to disassociate myself from most social activities. I was not able to face myself or my family. I felt that I always ended up making the wrong choices and getting along with the wrong people, which is why things would always take an ugly turn for me. Since most of my friends had already moved to Delhi for research and civil services exam preparation, I had no one to talk to and share things with. I used to go to the nearby Yamuna River and cry standing on its banks. I would ask why I was in such a miserable situation. I felt so helpless; it felt like time had come to a standstill. It was almost a weekly ritual for me to go there and cry. The other place I would go was Swaraj Bhavan (the place where the first prime minister of India Shri Jawahar Lal Nehru was born). I would go there around noon. Usually, there were fewer people there at that time. Most of them were couples who didn't care if someone was crying. I would sit in front of a small tulsi (holy basil) tree where ashes of Jawhar Lal Nehru were kept before being immersed in Sangam (the holy convergence point of rivers Ganges and Yamuna). I would sit and cry and complain about everything that had happened to me. I felt a sense of belonging to that small tree, and to Nehru himself. I clearly remembered reading his will, where he wished that his ashes be dispersed by helicopter all over India, and the remaining ashes immersed in the Ganges because of his affection and sense of belonging to the river. He has mentioned his love for the Ganges often in his writings. He had stated that he saw the river changing with the changes in the seasons. Growing up around its banks, his affection for the river ran deep. I am no prime minister of India, but I have the same wish for myself. As I slowly started recovering from trauma, I continued visiting Yamuna and Nehru like they were some indispensable part of my existence. Sometimes, I would have a piece of paper with me and on that, I would write how much I loved the river and Nehru. Other times, I would visit them with flowers. On others, I would go empty-handed, meditate, and ask them to be with me always. These practices made me feel like I was wrapped in a warm blanket – like my wounds and pain were a beautiful patchwork I stitched together piece by piece. Time and water both have fluidity and though time is human-made we still change with it. Despite what they say, I don’t believe time heals every wound. I believe that, along with water, it teaches us how to live with our wounds. 2016 I paid a visit to the Yamuna to share that I was selected for a Ph.D. I was so happy at that time – it came after so long! I told Yamuna I was going to work on the issue of flooding. But as I sat there for a while, I felt it was not what I wanted to do. 2017 I was almost a cry baby. I cried in front of my Ph.D. supervisor (Dr. Prashant Khattri) telling him I feel (I know?) that I am pansexual and that I am also dealing with depression. I asked him if this would affect his attitude towards me. It was my first time coming out to anyone. He replied, No! He had nothing to do with my sexual orientation. Then, I asked him if I could change my Ph.D. topic. As a queer person in a small city, I had a troubled childhood. I was a bully, mainly because I never wanted people to see the real me. I had crushes on my cis female-bodied friends but I was afraid to tell them because even I didn’t know the fancy labels back then. When I came out as queer I decided to give my life to heal and help queer people and kids around me. There is not much reading material in Hindi about queer issues so I started translating those into my language. HIV has a long history of trauma in the queer community and some of my close friends are currently facing issues related to HIV. While flooding is a really important topic, my people were dying alone of the virus, and none of them belonged to the academe, which is highly elite and accessible to so few. With Yamuna’s help, I decided to collect the stories of my people. I wanted to tell the world about the joys and miseries of being queer 2018 I met many people during my data collection and heard their experiences of coping with HIV and their ideas of healing through the alternative medical system (which includes yoga, Siddha Ayurveda, Unani, reiki, home remedies, some chants, and sometimes, just escapism). Along with getting to meet so many beautiful people, I also got a chance to listen to many chaotic yet beautiful experiences of healing. Once I met a femme man in Benaras. He was Muslim, a male sex worker, and identified as gay. He was 22 when he found out he was HIV positive. He told me he was abused by his family, especially by his father and brothers. One day, he ran away. He was not educated enough for a so-called white-collar job, so he took up odd jobs like being a security guard and a salesman. Even so he could not make enough money and sometimes he slept without food. Then he told me about a man on Facebook with whom he would talk about his experiences in his hometown, and that man suggested he run away. When he arrived he learned his Facebook connection was a sex worker and, after facing so many social and moral dilemmas, he too got into sex work. When he came to know about his HIV-positive status, he decided to end his life by the Ganges. He thought whatever happened to him was his fault; he blamed himself for everything. When he was telling me his story he almost cried. He was losing his words and murmured some and he said he never wanted to be like his father. I told him he wasn’t. Then he told me, “No, Appa (elder sister), he haunts me. In my mind I always see myself becoming like him. That is my biggest fear. That I would become like that person who I am running away from. So I decided to end it. I came here to take away my life because I find that to be an easy way of dying.” But as he sat by the river and contemplated his past, he realized that despite what had happened to him he didn’t need to end his life – that there was a better way of living than being haunted by getting raped by his father. He told me something just hit his heart and told him not to take away his life. He then made peace with it slowly and gradually. He said he was never a believer but after that he felt he belonged to the Ganges. Now he receives food from some of the temples and sits by the Ganges when it is not too crowded. He told me, “I left my mother at home. I wish I could do something for her because she is living with a terrible man. But I can't. I visit Ganges daily because she is a mother to many but for me, she is the only one who doesn’t care about me being gay, Muslim, HIV-positive, and a sex worker. I am no sinner in front of her. I cry here; I proposed to a man I love here. She witnesses all and I can see her joy when I come to visit. She is my mother too. I feel loved here. That’s what I deserve no matter what.” We spoke for hours and hours, sitting by the bank of the Ganges. We realized that we connected on many levels, and both of us were grateful to not end our lives on those fateful days. 2019 I have grown up with this belief that when someone loves you they tend to control you. But now I know that love is just love – that if there is a desire for control, then it is violence, and nobody deserves that in the pretext of love. I got my first tattoo which says Hridyen Aparajitah with a little infinity sign that belongs to time and water. (Sanskrit word meaning – “one whose heart is never defeated”). 2020 My family faced a financial crisis due to COVID, so I decided to move to Rajasthan, where I got a job. I was not very happy about it, because it was the first time I was going to stay away from my home – not only the place where I was born but also the place I belong to – Allahabad! I went to the banks of Yamuna and I wrote her a letter again: “I feel that I am like you – deep, dark and mystical. You are one of my best friends. We’ll meet again. Until then please take care of me and my people. After all, it's a pandemic and I have all trust in you. Bless me, please”. I feel that in any place of the world, women and marginalized people can establish an association with their environment. I was working on menstrual hygiene, which was a huge dilemma for me because given a lack of proper sanitation and water, ensuring menstrual hygiene is next to impossible, but I did try at least. I used to take classes around menstrual hygiene and sexualities. Some listen to me and some just make fun of me but one little girl said to me she wanted to become like me and she gave me a small wildflower and I told her I wish you become better than me and your dreams come true. During the evenings in Rajasthan, I would feel lonely and sit near a pond (bowli) and feel that my life had become stagnant like its water. I am an ambivert so being lonely was tough for me. I had a dog for company there, and I would talk to them about my day. Once I saw some women singing a folk song. I asked them what they were singing, and they replied that at this time of year migrant birds come to the pond, and Rajasthani women sing these songs for them. They hoped that the birds would take their messages to their partners who have been working in faraway lands. I learned a couple of lines from that song and I sang it for my partner and my friends who were far away. Even in this era of technology, I find comfort in expressions like these. One day I was sitting near a small temple. That morning, I was so depressed by seeing an adverse event in the village and I just wanted to run away to my friends but I could not. In India, many people place holy pebbles under trees around the temples. It is a local tradition that is followed in many small towns, villages, and even cities. This temple belonged to Shiva and the tree was a peepal. It is believed that the peepal tree belongs to Vishnu. In some mythological lore, Shiva is portrayed as the lover of Vishnu, and that’s why they are called Hari - Har. They used to sing and dance for each other. Both the deities are like yin and yang, creating a neutral power of existence. In some mythical lore, they were also believed to have a son named Ayyappa. It was a very queer existence of God. Indian mythologies are rich in way of queer existence of God and deities. I was looking for love and that sight gave me a sign that love is omnipresent. Maybe Vishnu decided to cover Shiva from the sun and chose to become a tree. People pour water on Shiva that gives life to that tree. At that very moment I realized I am very loved and water can’t be stagnant. Its flow might slow down, and sometimes it might stink, but that's how humans also are. Neither water nor humans can ever be stagnant. Eventually, we move and heal. The process might be slow but as Rumi said, “what you are seeking, is seeking you.” Eventually, we find our place and our loved ones. I love to pray and I always say “if I can’t be successful in conventional ways, please let me be happy because that much I deserve.” 2021 It was my 29th birthday and my friends decided to take me to Goa. When I first saw the sea I was stunned by its glory, so huge and never-ending! I had never seen such a vast expanse of water before. It was a full moon night, so the sea had towering waves. I felt they were talking to me. I know some people who are like this sea, huge and beautiful. My friend used to call me water witch; we explored paganism together, and she told me that my name should have been Oshun (mother of water bodies). I replied that my name, Toshi, means life-giver, so in a way, I am connected to water. My friend and I sat there and witnessed the sunset. We were there from 2 pm to 2 am. We saw stars and the sight was surreal – bizarre and beautiful. The next day we went scuba diving. Oh god, I don't have the words to express my feelings. It was unreal! I can't put that beauty into words. I heard a voice inside me, “this is why life is always more beautiful than death. Choose life if you have a choice. No matter how terrible a person you think you are, you still deserve to live, to be happy, and to be loved, and you are fortunate to get that chance again and again. Trust the process.” April 2021 I came down with COVID, and my health has been in a bad shape. I have lost many friends. I keep praying to keep my family safe. I have recovered but I'm stuck in lockdown, still like a bowli, and I can't wait to visit Yamuna and Nehru again! After all, only they can understand how I feel without me uttering a single word... At the time of writing my organization RAQS, (resistive alliance for queer solidarity), which was founded by me and one of my queer friends featured in Vogue India, is doing grassroots work among the queer youth of my city and surrounding villages. I hope whoever reads this feels a connection to it. Whenever you visit any water body always remember that we all are connected as all water bodies are connected. We all heal in bits and pieces, but we are not stagnant. Individual healing is a small process when we are suppressed by much bigger things like the state and society. Remember that nature is an important factor in helping us to heal. I hope you choose wonder.
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