I'm an Anglo-Indian Indian

My crisis last week were really questions about myself, my culture...what kind of Indian I am...

Why is this blend of Indian and European culture not "westernization" for me, but part of me... American influences, yes I suppose that is exposure through expanded media and Hollywood...and my upbringing has me conditioned in certain ways...but somethings are really innate...going back many many many generations of a blood mixing of Portuguese and Indian, Bangladeshi and Indian, Mumbai and Calcutta, Delhi and Hyderabad, growing up in British India and living in England, my grandparents and their parents inherited ideals, tastes and practices in such a fused form it was their own...and my own parents- Anglo-Indian Catholic mother married to a completely anglicised Muslim yet Christian School educated father...I grow up speaking fluent English and struggling with all the vernaculars... and I never liked to be called Anglo-Indian because that has it's own stigma, I'm not even like most other Anglos...so I took refuge in the fact that since the constitution defined Anglo-Indians by that name only if the father of the child was Anglo-Indian, I settled this issue as a child as just being "Indian"... but now the question returns to haunt me, what kind of Indian am I? And today I feel, it's probably close to right to say I'm not Anglo Indian, but I am an Anglo-Indian Indian. That wouldn't make sense to a reader unfamiliar with the nuances of the hybridity of Indian race and culture, but to me it makes perfect sense...I'm not entirely Anglo-Indian so that term alone is not enough, but used as an adjective it can describe what kind of "Indian" I am...

This is strangely comforting after a week of struggle...and some attempts of setting down resistence and reluctance to try and embrace my roots and culture... It hits me so hard, I was not only rejecting my Indian heritage but I was also rejecting my Anglo-Indian heritage... which brings me back to the reason why I wanted to reject this...opposing sides have prejudice about the other...It makes so much sense now, I was caught in between strong and very real social prejudice... my parents didnt face this, because my mum IS Anglo Indian, and my Dad IS Indian...nothing to question that, they would fit quite well not the stereotype but an inclusive definition of those terms... but as their child and being brought up not only by their ideas, but by their families- my aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, influencing my thinking and dividing me more and more in the process of what Anglo-Indian traits I retain and what elements of traditional/local Indian culture I absorb...what is right and wrong...what is to be tolerated what not, what is acceptable what is frowned upon... prejudice is so high...as well as pride...hmm I could write a whole new novel about all that... I never realized any of this before...I was blind and passive and content to keep floating along in my oblivious state.

Hmmm...

The last week has had small moments of me trying to understand how I am actually an Indian...it was fun, I was singing old Hindi songs and taught three of my friends the lyrics...I cooked Indian food and saw a Bollywood movie with my friend... all of this revealed to me my mixed culture even more lucidly, the song is an old song to the tune of 'A Hundred Miles', the dinner was really nice, but with less spices and oil, Indian food- parathas and aloo made in Anglo-Indian style... and in the movie...there was so many ridiculous things in the artistic direction that I just laughed at and couldnt relate or identify with at all, but yet the story was compelling and and moving also, as it talked about very common life circumstances in India.

I keep searching further...but knowing myself as an 'Anglo-Indian Indian' takes me little closer in my quest.

Bliss...

colours...tones...shades

somethings are just meant to be stored up

cherished for a lifetime of remembering with fondness

like a lump of sugar that sweetens instantly

the little girl content with a lollipop

magic it all feels like magic

wanting more or asking why or trying to lengthen it out

not the same

those seconds are as many or as little as they are meant to be and then

they melt away just like the lump of sugar dissolves



streams of light shine

pink and gold like magic dust

The magic floats around while tinkling bells ring silently

how does it happen...I dont know, I never know

I just 'be'

doing everything normally though it's actually all extraordinary

bliss sweet bliss sweet sweet bliss

before and after and now



I cant do anything like I said before

only 'be' and cherish



I pray everyday

beyond what is my normal strength

living in the extraordinary power of the magic I feel

but what is to be-is still a surprise

like the painting I played with as a child

shades of grey and cream and black lines and dots

but a splash of water and its full of colour

But I never knew which colours would fill each part



my heart feels a burst everytime,

everytime someone appears

The sparkle in my eye as I feel a wonder lamp lighted

wonder and awe and delight and surprise

Shall this all be in my heart only,

Shall it only be my imagination my wonderings and my bliss

well if that be the will of my Father, so be it.

I honour God's way, for I know it is best.

But while I have Danish cookies,

I savour and revel in every moment of bliss.

I've had a crazy 24 hours or thiry six hours maybe...and my blog I have missed you, I have missed the sweet contentment of written expression...the wheels keep turning faster and faster and I dont get to stop...but then I decide not to sleep but to write...how strange, my stop for rest really means moving but in a different way to all the routine things. Whats the issue of the day- Confrontation...expected things are sort of ok to deal with, because you know you have to deal with them as time goes on...but when out of the blue a volcano explodes, thats crazy...and i had an erupted volcano spurting lava for the whole of today practically in the midst of all of everydays challenges...and how did I get through it...I dont know...grace...Im just glad I did...

Its not dead, but calm for a while...I know how to approach to dealing with it...and so I will...but it's a painful process, thats the only way to describe it...really painful...so much that I unconciously ignored, now is only too apparent and striking and I have to deal with it...I've got to be real...Oh Jesus help me, this is so hard... I dont even feel free enough to disclose what this is, it could really be something very small for alot of people...and yet Im so sensitive to this issue, I cant be blind to it anymore. Im so glad for the counsel I had today...it helps me to process. processing is the start... glad for that and polish radio and playing on a piano!